THE MYTHOPOESIS OF LAWRENCE DURRELL

by

PHYLLIS MARGERY REEVE

B.A., Bishop's U n i v e r s i t y , 1958

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THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF

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i i

ABSTRACT

In The Alexandria Quartet Lawrence D u r r e l l develops a serie s

of images i n v o l v i n g mirrors, to suggest that t r u t h , e s p e c i a l l y the

tr u t h about oneself, i s to be approached only through the j u x t a p o s i ­

t i o n of many memories, times and selves. Since the s e l f must f i n d

i t s e l f through other selves, the a r t i s t i s concerned with love and

fr i e n d s h i p , where s e l f i s revealed i n i t s r e l a t i o n to the other.

In narcissism and i n c e s t , the s e l f becomes the other, i n r e l a t i o n

t o i t s own divided being.

The use of mirror a l l u s i o n s i n connection with the a c q u i s i ­

t i o n of self-knowledge i s apparent not only i n the Quartet, but also

i n D u r r e l l 1 s poetry and i n the ea r l y novels The Black Book and The

Dark Labyrinth. In these works the mirror of self-knowledge i s

rel a t e d to the problem of a c t i o n . Obsessive preoccupation with the

r e f l e c t i o n , the inward v i s i o n , prevents one from acting or creating

or looking outward. When D u r r e l l * s man u n i f i e s t h i s r e f l e c t i o n of

hi s various selves and times, he i s able to l i v e productively, as

Darley i s beginning to do at the end of the t e t r a l o g y .

Both denotations of " r e f l e c t i o n " , the outer image and the

inner thought, are involved i n D u r r e l l * s a l l u s i o n s to mirrors, since

both are aspects of the s e l f , since the outward i s continually used

to suggest the inner, and since the goal i s to unite outward and

inner i n the unitary s e l f . The process i s never completed, and

D u r r e l l d e l i b e r a t e l y leaves unanswered questions about h i s major

characters.

i i i

Frequently the attempt to f i n d an accurate r e f l e c t i o n pro­

ceeds through the means of another " i " whose words or person may

serve as a mirror. The "mirror' r may be a lover, a f r i e n d or even

a mere acquaintance or a stranger. The Alexandrians often watch

each other i n mirrors, so that the insight gained may be not in t o

oneself only, but also i n t o the character of another.

The multiple-view mirror, which r e f l e c t s and d i s t o r t s one

object i n various ways, i s important i n D u r r e l l * s scheme. There

are always several ways of viewing anything, and the d i s p a r i t y may

occur within the v i s i o n of one person, as well as among those of a

number of people. The d i s u n i f i e d s e l f , with i t s c o n f l i c t s and

p o l a r i t i e s , i s a d i s t o r t i n g mirror. To s a t i s f y the need f o r

d e f i n i t i o n of oneself, one creates from "selected f i c t i o n s " ,

from the r e l a t i v e truths of l i f e , a s e l f and a w i l l which can

love and act i n r e l a t i o n to other selves and w i l l s . Because the

s e l f must be created, the a r t i s t i s a c r u c i a l symbolic f i g u r e .

The multiple-view mirror provides a narrative structure

f o r the Quart et, the four novels providing four views of one serie s

of events. Within t h i s structure, episodes, images and phrases are

echoed i n various contexts to q u a l i f y and illu m i n a t e each other.

Important types of mirrors are the a r t i s t , who holds the

mirror up to nature; the lover, who sees others i n close r e l a t i o n

to himself, e s p e c i a l l y i f h i s love i s homosexual or incestuous;

the patient or hypochondriac, whose obsession with h i s phys i c a l s e l f

p a r a l l e l s a mental preoccupation.

i v

The s e t t i n g s , Alexandria, Greece and England are extensions

of the inner landscapes of t h e i r inhabitants. Alexandria r e f l e c t s

the multiple tumults of the non-rational s e l f , Greece i s a longed-

f o r i d e a l of c l a r i t y and calm, and England i s "Pudding Island", the

repressive conventions of western c i v i l i z a t i o n .

D u r r e l l * s "Heraldic Universe" i s a comprehensive system of

hinged mirrors, i n which inner s e l f and outer world r e f l e c t each

other, as do one s e l f and another s e l f , creator and creation, macro­

cosm and microcosm. Symbolism i s not merely a l i t e r a r y device but

a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of even the f a c t u a l landscape of h i s t r a v e l books.

Temporal and s p a t i a l p o s i t i o n s a r e r e l a t i v e and prismatic. D u r r e l l * s

heraldry i s both a m u l t i p l i c i t y of p o s s i b i l i t i e s and a unity of

i n t e r r e l a t e d r e a l i t i e s .

This t h e s i s proposes to show the consistent patterns of the

mirrors and associated motifs and to suggest t h e i r s i g n i f i c a n c e

within the context of D u r r e l l * s writing and theory, and i n r e l a t i o n

to the work of some contemporary w r i t e r s , c r i t i c s and psychologists.

The argument follows the general sequence outlined above, beginning

with the various uses of actual mirror images, proceeds to consider

love, a r t , i l l n e s s and landscape as r e f l e c t o r s and concludes with a

general look at the "Heraldic" t o t a l i t y .

V

C O N T E N T S

Abbreviations 1 Summary of Alexandrians 2 Introduction: A l i c e i n Alexandria 5

CHAPTER I: The Mirror Image

A. Motifs Related to the Mirror 12 B. The Two Meanings of " R e f l e c t i o n " 21 C. The Single Image 24 D. R e f l e c t i o n i n Another S e l f 31 E. R e f l e c t i o n of Another Self 35 F. Multiple-View Mirrors: Prism-Sightedness 37 G. The Multiple-View Plot 48

CHAPTER I I : The Mirror of Art

A. Art i n Alexandria 59 B. Art & A r t i s t and Alexandria 62 C. The A r t i s t as a Mirror of Society 74

CHAPTER I I I : The Mirror of Love

A. The Language of Love 79 B. Love as Knowledge 81 C. The Mult i p l e Views of Love 86 D. The Mirror of Incest 93 E. The Five-Sexed Mirror 102

CHAPTER IV: The Mirror of Malady; I l l n e s s and M u t i l a t i o n . 112

CHAPTER V: The Landscapes of the Mind

A. Alexandria 122 B. Greece 132

C. England 133

CHAPTER VI: Conclusion: Time and the Heraldic Universe .. 135

APPENDIX: D u r r e l l as an Elizabethan 142

BIBLIOGRAPHY 154

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ABBREVIATIONS

i In references to books by Lawrence Durrell, the following

abbreviations have been used:

A & 0 Art and Outrage (London, 1959)

B Balthazar (New York, 1961)

BL Bitter Lemons (London, 1957)

BB The Black Book (New York, 1963)

C Clea (New York, 1961)

PL The Dark Labyrinth (London, 1961)

J_ Justine (New York, 1962)

Key A Key to Modern Poetry (London, 1952)

M Mountolive (New York, 1961)

P The Poetry of Lawrence Durrell (New York, 1962)

Pope Pope Joan (London, 1960)

Cor A Private Correspondence (New York, 1963)

PC Prospero's Cell (London, 1945)

MV Reflections on a Marine Venus (London, 1953)

S Sappho (London, 1950)

A l l page references w i l l be included in the body of the

text.

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A B r i e f Summary of the Alexandrians

The plot of The Alexandrian Quartet d e f i e s summary, but a

b r i e f o u t l i n e of characters and t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p s might be help­

f u l to readers of t h i s t h e s i s . The following dramatis personae

i s arranged roughly i n order of importance.

Darley: a not-yet-successful w r i t e r , the narrator of

Justine, Balthazar and Clea.

Pursewarden: a successful w r i t e r , who works i n the B r i t i s h -

Egyptian war o f f i c e . He and Darley are often

spokesman f o r D u r r e l l . His unexplained suicide

i s a c e n t r a l problem f o r a l l four novels.

Justine: a neurotic Jewish Cleopatra, formerly the wife

of a writer Arnauti and now married to Nessim.

She i s mistress of both Darley and Pursewarden.

Nessim: a wealthy Copt, engaged i n subversive attempts

to smuggle arms to P a l e s t i n e .

Melissa: a f r a i l Greek p r o s t i t u t e , the mistress of Darley

and, b r i e f l y , of Nessim. Her former lover i s a

Jewish businessman Cohen, through whom she learns

compromising f a c t s about Nessim*s a c t i v i t i e s .

Clea: an a r t i s t , the f r i e n d , and l a t e r the mistress, of

Darley; the l e s b i a n lover of Justine, and the

confidante of nearly everyone.

Balthazar: an aging doctor, philosopher, pederast and a

leader of the Alexandrian cabal. He reveals to

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Mountolive;

L e i l a :

L i z a :

Narouz:

Scobie:

Pombal:

Capodistria:

Amaril:

Darley the double meaning of the events chronicled

i n Justine and i s instrumental i n other moments of

t r u t h .

the B r i t i s h ambassador to Egypt.

Nessim*s mother and mistress of the youthful pre-

ambassadorial Mountolive.

Pursewarden*s b l i n d s i s t e r and mistress, l a t e r

Mountolive*s wife.

Nessim*s borther, i n love with Clea. He i s

p h y s i c a l l y gross, the opposite of the suave Nessim,

and remains on the land. He i s at times possessed

by strange powers of speech which he employs f a n a t i ­

c a l l y i n the Coptic cause.

a comic character, an old wanderer f i n a l l y more

or l e s s i n the employ of the p o l i c e department.

The major characters spend many pages r e t e l l i n g

h i s t a l l t a l e s . He i s homosexual and vaguely

connected with T i r e s i a s .

a Frenchman, f r i e n d of Darley.

a pleasantly satanic f r i e n d of everyone. He disappears

f o r p o l i t o a l reasons and dabbles i n black magic,

a doctor, once Glea's l o v e r . He i s the p r i n c i p a l

i n the romantic pursuit of Semira, f o r whom, with

the assistance of p l a s t i c surgery and Clea*s art

he fashions a nose.

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Maskelyne: o f f i c e r i n the war o f f i c e , aware of Nessim*s

subversion, and unsympathetic towards him

and h i s f r i e n d s .

Keats: a j o u r n a l i s t , the would-be biographer of

Pursewarden.

5

INTRODUCTION

A l i c e i n Alexandria

"Let's consider who i t was that dreamed i t a l l ... He was part of my dream of course - but then I was part of h i s dream too!"-1-

So speaks a bewildered s e l f confronted with the p o s s i b i l i t y that

i t s existence depends on the perceptions, the i l l u s o r y perceptions

at that, of another s e l f whose view may d i f f e r from i t s own. No

matter how much she may "consider", there i s no way of knowing which

view i s ri g h t or p a r t l y r i g h t , or whether one or both are f a l s e . And

t h i s s e l f cannot know the t r u t h about i t s own selfhood without knowing

how i t appears i n the dream of the other. The name of t h i s p a r t i c u l a r

s e l f i s A l i c e , the other i s the Red King, and the se t t i n g i s Looking-

Glass Land. The image basic to Lewis C a r r o l l ' s fantasy, together with

the other images and motifs which emerge from i t are remarkably s i m i l a r

to those i n Lawrence D u r r e l l ' s Alexandrian Quartet.

A l i c e never solves the problem of the Red King's dream, the

problem of her own existence i n space and time. She hers e l f i s

xLewis C a r r o l l . Through the Looking Glass and What A l i c e Found There. (Philadelphia, 1897), p. 209.

®In the Key D u r r e l l quotes a l e t t e r from Lewis C a r r o l l to a l i t t l e g i r l , as an example of "detachment of the object from i t s frame of reference" and as an a n t i c i p a t i o n of surrealism: "'And I l i k e two or three handfuls of h a i r , only they should always have a l i t t l e g i r l ' s head beneath them to grow on, or e l s e , whenever you open the door, they get blown a l l over the room, and then they get l o s t , you know.*" (p. 87) He l i n k s C a r r o l l with Rimbaud, Laforgue and Nietzsche as important f i g u r e s i n the "Semantic Disturbance" (pp. 39 - 40) and quotes the Cambridge History of Engl i s h L i t e r a t u r e an A l i c e ' s pro­blems with space and time. (p. 69)

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a r e f l e c t i o n i n the mirror, ans so i s the Red King whose dream

contains her existence, and who f i n a l l y appears to be not a king

or even a chessman, but a black k i t t e n . Her i d e n t i t y i s enmeshed

i n an i n v o l u t i o n of r e f l e c t i o n within r e f l e c t i o n . Her dilemma

i s expressed i n terms of the geography of Looking-Glass Land,

which bears comparison with the geography of D u r r e l l * s Alexandria.

The t e r r a i n i s a chessboard and the characters are chessmen; A l i c e

h e r s e l f i s a pawn and thus r e s t r i c t e d , though not paralysed i n her

movement, while around her r e a l i t y moves i n many d i r e c t i o n s and

perspectives. A game of chess goes on and on through four volumes

of the Alexandria Quartet. It i s a game by correspondence, and,

l i k e Balthazar's p h i l o s o p h i c a l researches, begins i n the c a b b a l i s ­

t i c search f o r unity. The game, ca r r i e d on by telegram and i n

code, becomes involved i n Mountolive*s uncovering of Nessim*s sub­

version, and i n Darley's penetration of the r e l a t i o n s h i p s i n which

he himself i s concerned.

Dostoevsky, i n h i s Notes from Underground, uses the chess­

board to i l l u s t r a t e h i s contention thfct man s t r i v e s f o r c e r t a i n t y ,

but shrinks from the r e a l i z a t i o n of h i s goal. Conscious man

i s a f r i v o l o u s and incongruous creature, and perhaps, l i k e a chess player, loves the process of the game, not the end of i t . And who knows (there i s no saying with certainty)^, perhaps the only goal on earth to which man­kind i s s t r i v i n g l i e s i n the incessant process of a t t a i n i n g , i n other words, i n l i f e i t s e l f , and not i n the thing to be attained, which must always be expressed as a formula, as p o s i t i v e as twice two makes four, and such positiveness i s not l i f e , gentlemen, but the beginning of death.-1-

i n E x i s t e n t i a l i s m from Dostoevsky to Sartre, ed. Walter Kaufmann (New York 1957), p. 77, hereafter c i t e s as Notes. D u r r e l l uses a quotation from Notes to head h i s c r i t i c a l essay e n t i t l e d "The World Within". (Key, p. 49)

7

The search f o r the knowledge of s e l f i s d e s i r a b l e , but achieved

knowledge of s e l f suggests the reduction of i n d i v i d u a l i t y to

mathematical a b s t r a c t i o n .

Otto Rank discusses the mythological o r i g i n s of chess,

l i n k i n g i t with p r i m i t i v e maternity symbols and with the " p r i m i ­

t i v e symbolism of death and r e s u r r e c t i o n . " I t s ancestor, the

ggyptian snake game, was the subject of a legend i n which two

brothers turned the game int o a duel i n which one of them l o s t

an eye. 1 D u r r e l l 1 s L e i l a i s associated with a pet snake, and her

sons engage i n a struggle which r e s u l t s i n Narouz's death and the

loss of Nessim*s eye.

In Looking-Glass Land, A l i c e can approach her object only by

walking away from i t , and Darley understands Alexandria only a f t e r

leaving i t . This r e v e r s a l of s p a t i a l r e l a t i o n s i s one of the major

i l l u s i o n s created by a mirror.

A l i c e f i n d s that time too assumes t h i s property of space; the

White Queen screams before she i s hurt, and Hatta i s t r i e d before

he commits h i s crime.

Loding-Glass poetry, to be read, must be seen r e f l e c t e d i n a

mirror, and i s even then not understood u n t i l subjected to Humpty

Dumpty's exegesis. S i m i l a r l y , Justine i s puzzling u n t i l r e f l e c t e d

J-Art and A r t i s t , (New York, 1932), pp. 308, 310. c f . Vladimir Nabokov, The Defense (New York, 1964), and the review by Robefct J . Clements i n Saturday Review, 26 September 1964, 45-46.

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and revised by three other perspectives.

Besides the paradox of the Red King's dream, the r e f l e c t i o n

of the s e l f i n the other i s suggested i n the twinship of Tweedle­

dum and Tweedledee, i d e n t i c a l brothers with arms around each other's

necks. One i s i n c l i n e d to suspect that they s u f f e r from what

D u r r e l l ' s Scobie d e l i c a t e l y r e f e r s to as "tendencies". Supposing

t h e i r b a t t l e to p a r a l l e l the snake-game duel, they have the problem

of Nessim and Narouz,which i s both incestuous and homosexual, as

well as that of L i z a and Pursewarden, which i s merely incestuous.

C l o s e l y r e l a t e d to the phenomenon of reversed movement i n

time and space i s the memory of Looking-Glass people. Remembrance

i s not only of things past, but of things future too; one remembers

what has not yet occurred. Time, memory and i d e n t i t y are disarranged

so as to become r i d i c u l o u s concepts, and t h e i r expression i s included

i n the major image of the mirror, an image of space. 1

As e a r l y as 1936, D u r r e l l wrote to Henry M i l l e r :

I AM SLOWLY BUT VERY CAREFULLY AND WITHOUT CONSCIOUS THOUGHT DESTROYING TIME. I have discovered that the idea of duration i s f a l s e . We have invented i t as a philosophic jack-up to the idea of physical d i s i n t e g r a ­t i o n . THERE IS ONLY SPACE. A s o l i d object has only three dimensions. Time, that old appendix, I've lopped o f f . So i t needs a new a t t i t u d e . An a t t i t u d e without memory. A s p a t i a l existence i n terms of the paper I'm writing on now at the moment.

(Cor. p. 19, D u r r e l l ' s c a p i t a l s )

-••Note the reference to A l i c e i n My Family and Other Animals by D u r r e l l ' s brother Gerald. See the Penguin e d i t i o n (1962), pp. 9, 221, 225, 261.

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In Alexandria, the true s e l f i s to be approached, never quite

achieved, only through the j u x t a p o s i t i o n of many memories, times,

selves. There can be no solipsism. Self must f i n d i t s e l f through

other selves, and the a r t i s t i s concerned with r e l a t i o n s h i p s ; with

love and f r i e n d s h i p , where s e l f i s revealed i n the other; with the

i d e n t i t y of s e l f with other i n narcissism, i n c e s t , physical and

mental in v e r s i o n , and the self-obsessions of hypochondria and

neuroses. To suggest these patterns, D u r r e l l develops the image

of the conventional mirror, the t r i c k mirror and the multiple-view-

mirror.

Alexandrians meet i n mirrors, speak to each other i n mirrors,

t a l k . t o themselves i n mirrors, s i t naked i n front of mirrors, write

on mirrors, point guns at mirrors. Each mirror as i t occurs i n the

course of the n a r r a t i v e i s an unobtrusive piece of background f u r n i ­

t u re. As mirror a f t e r mirror i s offered f o r mention i n passing, the

sum of them a l l i s not a heap of glass, but a simultaneous c r y s t a l l i ­

zing of n a r r a t i v e and symbol, a c t i o n , consciousness and unconscious.

For the disintegrated s e l f , D u r r e l l prescribes unity, the

focussing of images. He therefore alludes frequently to Gnosticism

and i t s pursuit of the One, and to medicine and i t s healing of

p h y s i c a l breakages. The a r t i s t wants "to combine, resolve and harmo­

n i s e " , and comes up with a world view which s t a r t s from D u r r e l l ' s

version of " r e l a t i v i t y " , the r e l a t i o n s h i p of the s e l f to everything,

including i t s own and other selves

'a note of a f f i r m a t i o n - the curvature of an embrace, the wordlessness of a lovers* code - some f e e l i n g that the world we l i v e i n i s founded on something too simple

10

to be overdescribed as cosmic law, but as easy to grasp, as say, an act of tenderness i n the primal r e l a t i o n between animal and plant, r a i n and s o i l , seed and trees, man and God. A r e l a t i o n s h i p so d e l i c a t e that i t i s a l l too e a s i l y broken by the in q u i r i n g mind and conscience.' (C_, pp. 238 - 239)

When tenderness without deception i s achieved, the a r t i s t

begins to be succe s s f u l .

Discussion i n t h i s paper w i l l not be l i m i t e d to the Quartet,

because t h i s very lack of l i m i t a t i o n seems v i t a l to D u r r e l l ' s thought

and a r t . As the l e t t e r quoted above suggests, the Quartet was not

a sudden creation, despite the b r i e f time of actual composition.

These ideas of space-time, s e l f , tenderness, and the images which

suggest them appear i n D u r r e l l ' s e a r l y novels, h i s poetry and h i s

t r a v e l books. In the te t r a l o g y they are concentrated and developed

to unity, but they have been there a l l along. A c o l l e c t i o n of h i s

primary motifs occurs i n the poem,. " C i t i e s , Plains and People":

the mirror: 0 world of l i t t l e mirrors i n the l i g h t ,

The faces of the innocents i n wells.

physics and psychology: The tidebound, t e p i d , causeless Continuum of t e r r o r s i n the s p i r i t .

Ego, my dear, and i d L i e so profoundly hid In space-time void.

i l l n e s s : U n t i l your pain became l i t e r a t u r e .

Yet here was a window Into the great sick-room, Europe.

• • •

... through i n t r o s p e c t i o n and disease.

love as communication: ... how sex became A le s s e r sort of speech, and the members doors.

(P, 134 - 149)

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The f i r s t motif to be dealt with w i l l be the mirror, since

t h i s image, or some notion of r e f l e c t i o n , i s continually present

i n conjunction with the other themes of the various forms of love,

i l l n e s s , landscape and philosophy.

The "hinged-mirror" view has taken various forms i n the

twentieth century novel, probably most impressively i n Proust.

V i r g i n i a Woolf*s Orlando has "a great v a r i e t y of selves to c a l l

upon", and i s seeking "the key s e l f , which amalgamates and controls

them a l l " . 1 Vladimir Nabokov's novel Pale F i r e presents two auto­

biographies, each of which i s also a commentary on the other, and

one of which i s by a schizophrenic to further multiply e n t i t i e s ;

and i t presents them by means of such a maze of c r i s s - c r o s s r e f e r ­

ences as to i n f i n i t e l y multiply the basic two views. Zemblan, the

language of h i s mythical kingdom, i s c a l l e d "the tongue of the

mirror".^ These and other works w i l l be mentioned where comparison

seems i n t e r e s t i n g and relevant.

1(London, 1928), pp. 278, 279. 2(New York, 1962), p. 242.

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CHAPTER ONE. The Mirror Image

A. Motifs r e l a t e d to the Mirr o r .

In D u r r e l l ' s poem "On Mirrors", the mirrors have been turned

to the wa l l , so the inhabitant of the house i s deprived of t h i s

means of viewing himself.

You gone, the mirrors a l l reverted, Lay banging i n the empty house, Redoubled t h e i r e f f o r t s to impede Waterlogged images of faces pleading.

So Fortunatus had a mirror which Imperilled h i s reason when i t broke; The sleepers i n t h e i r dormitory of glass S t i r r e d once and sighed but never woke.

Time amputated so w i l l bleed no more But flow l i k e refuse now i n clocks On c l i n i c walls, i n l i b r a r i e s and barracks, Not made to spend but k i l l and nothing more.

Yet mirrors abandoned drink l i k e ponds: (Once they resumed the childhood of love) And overflowing, spreading, swallowing Like water l i g h t , show one averted face,

As i n the capsule of the human eye Seen at i n f i n i t y , the outer end of time, A man and woman l y i n g sun-bemused In a blue vineyard by the L a t i n sea,

Steeped i n each other's minds and breathing there Like wicks in h a l i n g deep i n golden o i l .

(P, p. 27)

At the same time t h i s inhabitant s u f f e r s another deprivation

i n the departure of h i s companion, who also served as a sort of

mirror i n which he could look f o r knowledge of himself. This double

l o s s , of mirrors and of a loved person, i s described i n Mountolive.

At the Coptic wake, as part of the duties to the dead, "the mirrors

were shivered i n t o a thousand fragments". (M, 313) The dead i s

13

Narouz, the mourner i s Nessim and the image of the shivered mirrors

suggests t h e i r d i v i s i o n .

The reversed mirrors of the poem become h o s t i l e to attempted

r e f l e c t i o n s , "redoubled t h e i r e f f o r t s to impede/Waterlogged images

of faces pleading". Water, i s rela t e d to the mirror because i t too

can r e f l e c t ; Narcissus, the prime lover of s e l f , saw himself i n the

water, but water has wider connotations; e s p e c i a l l y i t i s symbolic

of b i r t h and r e b i r t h i n the perennial l i t e r a r y theme of the journey

by water. The faces i n the poem are "waterlogged". They have had

too much water, too much searching of the s e l f . Excessive i n t r o ­

version i s an impediment to int r o s p e c t i o n or to a view of the s e l f

* as i t r e a l l y i s . The faces plead f o r an opportunity to be r e f l e c t e d

accurately, but they are already waterlogged, and the mirrors do

not help.

The poem alludes to Fortunatus' mirror which " i m p e r i l l e d h i s

reason when i t broke". The mirror i s supposed to reveal a true

image of things as they are, as reason would l o g i c a l l y deduce them.

The s e l f r e f l e c t e d i n t h i s mirror i s a s c i e n t i f i c a l l y proven s e l f ,

reducible to a formula. The s e l f r e v o l t s against t h i s r e f l e c t i o n ,

and by im p l i c a t i o n against reason, because, i n the words of Dostoevsky's

underground man, Reason.is nothing but reason and s a t i s f i e s only the

r a t i o n a l side of man's nature, while w i l l i s a manifestation of the

whole l i f e , that i s , of the whole human l i f e i ncluding reason and

14

a l l the impulses". 1 This " w i l l " seems to be the " s e l f " we have been

discussing, or at least the preserver of the unitary existence, "what

i s most precious and most important - that i s , our personality, our

i n d i v i d u a l i t y " . D u r r e l l ' s Alexandrians have been c r i t i c i s e d f o r t h e i r 2

lack of w i l l , but t h i s c r i t i c i s m misses the point that w i l l i s part

of what they are seeking and therefore they cannot yet possess i t .

A l s o , such objections assume that w i l l must always be manifesting

i t s e l f i n a c t i o n , and I am not sure that t h i s i s so. W i l l may be

contrary to reason, and to break the mirror of reason i s paradoxi­

c a l l y to achieve a better r e f l e c t i o n . In. R e f l e c t i o n s on a Marine

Venus,^ D u r r e l l alludes to the inadequacy of reason and r e l i g i o n as mirrors, that i s , as aids to self-knowledge. One requires a

degree of knowledge t o recognize one's own r e f l e c t i o n and r e a l i z e

i t s i m p l i c a t i o n s .

(Reason and r e l i g i o n ) are equally suspect. They are both fogged mirrors, badly i n need of cleaning. But the ignorant man can get nothing from either - not even a r e f l e c t i o n of h i s own s t u p i d i t y .

(MV, p. 169)

Notes, pp. 73, 74. See also Frederick J . Hoffman, Samuel Becket: the Language of S e l f (Carbondale, 111., 1962), pp. 4, 7, 9. The underground man i s "defeated by the mirror of s e l f -w i l l " . "The power of the w i l l ... i s ... turned almost e n t i r e l y inward ... a perverse i n t e r e s t i n tortured s e l f - a n a l y s i s " . The beloved " i s a mirror i n which the underground man sees only the e f f e c t s of a closed s e l f " .

2e.g. L i o n e l T r i l l i n g , "The Quartet: Two Reviews", i n The World of Lawrence Duaell, ed. Harry T. Moore (Carbondale, 111., 1962), pp. 56-60. This volume w i l l henceforth be r e f e r r e d to as World.

^ D u r r e l l ' s mirror i s i n n o n - f i c t i o n too. Note the t i t l e "Ref­l e c t i o n s " . T r a v e l , as w i l l be seen i n the discussion of landscape, i s f o r him a form of i n t r o s p e c t i o n .

15

Reason also could i n s i s t on s e l f - a n a l y s i s beyond the point which the

i r r a t i o n a l s e l f can bear.

Time i s "amputated" i n the poem because the other meaning of

" r e f l e c t i o n " involves memory, bringing past i n t o present, and d i s ­

carding the superfluous time between. Al s o , D u r r e l l eliminates

"time", as an impersonal means of s c i e n t i f i c measurement and recog­

nizes i t only as one aspect of the l i f e processes. Time, as i t i s

shown, " i n clocks", i s "refuse" now. It " w i l l bleed no more", because

i t i s no longer a part of l i f e . The clocks i n which i t flows l i k e

refuse are i n c l i n i c s , places of sickness; l i b r a r i e s , places of a r t ,

and memory; and barracks, places of regimentation and destruction;

and a l l these places are important to D u r r e l l ' s Alexandrians.

The. abandoned mirrors become act i v e and r e f l e c t the face even

though i t i s averted, they "drink l i k e ponds". Ponds do not drink,

but are what we drink. The key to the paradox i s the mirror. The

pond i n r e f l e c t i n g the face "drinks" i t , takes i t within the water.

The mention of love i s i n place, f o r t h i s r e f l e c t i o n i s not consciously

sought by the s e l f r e f l e c t e d but i s a gratuitous o f f e r i n g , and the

"mirror" often takes the form of another person through whom the s e l f

i s found, or perhaps the form of one's own a r t . The mirror then

seems to be the human eye which "sees" i n various ways, "perceives",

or, i n the way i n which a seer sees - in t o " i n f i n i t y , the outer end

of time".

The f i n a l mirror i n the poem i s a blend of the mirrors which

D u r r e l l most t r u s t s . The lovers r e f l e c t each other's s e l f , are

"steeped i n each other's minds", inv o l v i n g i n t e l l e c t as well as sense,

16

the unitary image. Their s e t t i n g i s "by the L a t i n sea", a Mediterr­

anean' landscape l i k e the i s l a n d to which D u r r e l l sends Darley to

c l a r i f y h i s r e f l e c t i o n i n both senses of that word. From this,

mirror, as from a lamp with "wicks i n h a l i n g deep i n golden o i l " ,

l i g h t , i l l u m i n a t i o n , new knowledge come.

Into t h i s poem, D u r r e l l has crowded suggestions of the various

forms which the mirrors i n the Quartet are to take:

reason and science, time, n a r c i s s i s i s m , sickness, a r t ,

destruction, seascape and landscape, and love.

The s e l f ^ m i r r o r i n g i t s e l f was D u r r e l l ' s theme long before the

Quartet was w r i t t e n . Gregory i n the Black Book suf f e r s from an

extreme self-consciousness, and i s always aware of himself "as an

actor on an empty stage, h i s only audience the c r i t i c a l s e l f " . (BB,

pp. 200-201). In h i s room, the "laboratory which I have made of my

ego", Gregory rages i n r e v e r i e u n t i l everything becomes i n t o l e r a b l e ;

then he sobers himself by looking i n the mirror.

The Black Book i s a beginner's work, and the mirror symbolism

i s much l e s s subtle than i t i s i n the Alexandria Quartet, but t h i s

lack of subtlety leaves clues to some of the implications of D u r r e l l ' s

l a t e r uses of s i m i l a r devices. Gregory aspires to i n v u l t u a t i o n , and

the e f f i g y which he would hex i s h i s own. But he i s unsuccessful:

"D a i l y I pierce the image of myself, and nothing happens". The

r e f l e c t i n g s e l f has no power over the acting s e l f . There i s a separa­

t i o n where there should be a unity: " A l l my l i f e I have done t h i s -

imagined my actions. I have never taken part i n them". (BB, p. 196)

Self r e f l e c t i n g s e l f i s spellbound and impotent, s p l i t i n t o unconnected

17

parts:

'Ended. It i s a l l ended. I r e a l i z e that now, l i v i n g here on the green carpet and l i v i n g there i n the mirror .... This i s my eternal t o p i c , I, Gregory S t y l i t e s , des­troyed by the problem of personal a c t i o n . ' (BB, p. 228)

Gregory's statement of h i s problem follows mention of another

separation i n what should be u n i f i e d , the gulf "between the

people and t h e i r makers - the a r t i s t s " , r e s u l t i n g i n an impotent

c i v i l i z a t i o n and a new Dark Age.

The problem of personal action a r i s e s when the s e l f r e f l e c t i n g

loses contact with the s e l f r e f l e c t e d . W i l l cannot produce a c t i o n ,

which leads outward, because t h i s w i l l i s directed inward only.

V i c t o r Brombert 1 sees D u r r e l l ' s time as "a mode of a c t i o n " d i s t i n c t

from Proust's which i s a "mode of memory", and t h i s time i s re l a t e d

to "the mirror-disease of thought, the s o l i p s i s t i c awareness of

'others', the walled-in q u a l i t y of experience While concerned with

the j u x t a p o s i t i o n of various s e l f - r e f l e c t i o n s and various times past,

Barley cannot act and cannot create a r t . When he reconciles the r e -

l MLawrence D u r r e l l and h i s French Reputation, "World, pp. 174, 183.

2The d i s t i n c t i o n between Proust's and D u r r e l l ' s uses of "time", " r e f l e c t i o n " , and "memory" i s f a r from c l e a r . In a sense memory replaces action i n the process of Proustian time. As Joseph Wood Krutch explains, "The q u a l i t y of a di r e c t experience always eluded one and ... only i n r e c o l l e c t i o n could we grasp i t s r e a l f l a v o u r " . (Remembrance of Things Past, New York, 1934, v o l . I, p. v i i ) . A s i m i l a r theory i s suggested by the very structure of the.cQuartet, but f o r D u r r e l l the memory "which catches sight of i t s e l f i n a mirror" (B, p. 14) by that act of self-perception does become action , memory projecting beyond i t s e l f i n t o the future of Clea - remembering the future, as i n A l i c e ' s looking g l a s s .

18

f l e c t i o n s , he also moves forward i n time and can begin to create.

The state of non-action, which Brombert c a l l s "exasperated and im­

potent d e s i r e " , f i n d s i t s symbol i n the mirror. Brombert notes

here the importance of the eye i n a looking-glass world and i n

D u r r e l l ' s v i s u a l l y r i c h Alexandria. The eye o f f e r s temptations

and arouses desires which i t i s powerless to s a t i s f y . Hence the

prophetic eye and the b l i n d eye are major parts of the mirror

imagery.

Bombert thinks D u r r e l l * s mirror-complex resembles a game.

Perhaps t h i s i s another commentary on Balthazar's chessboard.

The search f o r D u r r e l l ' s hidden mirrors i s something of a

game i n i t s e l f . Probably, l i k e most in v e s t i g a t i o n s of l i t e r a r y

catchwords, i t can be pressed too f a r . But i t can also lead to

unsuspected and i n t r i g u i n g bypaths on the road to Alexandria. Con­

sider the case of Maskelyne, the head of the War O f f i c e i n Egypt while

Mountolive i s ambassador. He i s a p r a c t i c a l man, a man of "a c t i o n " ,

i n the sense of "getting things done", and has no patience with Mount-

o l i v e ' s unexplained delays. For him, the problem of Nessim i s a matter

of stark black and white, uncomplicated by the mesh of human r e l a t i v i t y

which binds Mountolive and turns h i s currents awry. In Time and Western

Man, a book which interested B u r r e l l and influenced him considerably,

Wyndham Lewis discusses the theory that things are as they appear to

one's senses (a s t i c k seen p a r t l y i n water i s bent) and r e f e r s to

"Maskelyne*s i l l u s i o n s " . This Maskelyne was a conjuror who mystified

audiences at the turn of the century. According to the theory Lewis

19

Is examining, an i l l u s i o n "would be r e a l - since i t appeared r e a l " .

Now we return to the mirror:

As most of Maskelyne's i l l u s i o n s are effected by arrangements of looking glasses, they would very well i l l u s t r a t e t h i s theory, which i s almost e n t i r e l y based on the experiences of a looking-glass world. It i s a world i n which the image comes to l i f e , and the picture, under suitable conditions moves and l i v e s i n ­side i t s frame.

The implications of t h i s passage for the Alexandria Quartet are

various. In the f i r s t place, Darley's i l l u s i o n s are true, despite

Balthazar's proof of t h e i r f a l s i t y . The Quartet i s not a detective

story, discarding red herring and proceeding towards the s i n g l e un­

arguable basic t r u t h . Truth i s r e l a t i v e i n Alexandria; what i s true

f o r Darley i s not true f o r Justine, but t h i s does not make i t l e s s

true f o r him. Many looking-glasses present many r e f l e c t i o n s of one

object and of each other. The r e f l e c t i o n becomes as r e a l as that

which i t r e f l e c t s . Again we are concerned with the making of images,

the image of s e l f , the creation of a work of a r t . The h i s t o r i c a l

Maskelyne constructed automata, the most famous of which were Psycho,

who played cards and may therefore bear some remote r e l a t i o n to the

i n v e s t i g a t i o n of the psyche and to the Tarot symbols; and Zoe who

drew p i c t u r e s , an a r t i s t - r o b o t , 2 D u r r e l l ' s Maskefyne resembles an

automaton i n h i s scrupulous adherence to the l i t e r a l law and h i s lack

of concern f o r human r e l a t i o n s . Psycho's i n t r o s p e c t i v e mysticism

and Zoe's art are not among h i s strong points.

1Time and Western Man (Boston, 1957) p. 403.

E n c y c l o p a e d i a B r i t a n n i c a , (1951), v o l . I I , p. 789b; v o l . VI, p. 263b.

20

Maskelyne constructs automata i n that h i s discovery of Nessim*s

secret renders Nessim, Mountolive and Pursewarden unable to d i r e c t

the course of events by t h e i r own w i l l s .

S t i l l using Maskelyne's t r i c k s as i l l u s t r a t i o n , Lewis postu­

l a t e s a magical t r i c k i n which the psycho-conjuror cuts up the s e l f :

Then i f each piece were put i n t o a separate glass receptacle, not only the same s e l f , but the whole s e l f , would be found staring at the spectator out of each of i t s p r i s o n s . 1

Perhaps t h i s picture of the divided but inseparable s e l f i s behind

Capodistria's homunculi, who, even i n an atmosphere of formaldehyde,

languish with love and jealousy. These pi c k l e d people stare at the

spectator as a r e f l e c t i o n returns the gaze of the person r e f l e c t e d .

Maskelyne performs a s i m i l a r t r i c k i n h i s separation of h i s o f f i c i a l

s e l f from h i s human s e l f .

But, i n the multiple mirrors of the looking-glass world, i t i s

Maskelyne who i s r i g h t , as Mountolive and Pursewarden must concede.

He knows the f a c t s , knows what should be done about them, and does

i t . This i s one point at which one questions what D u r r e l l means by

"act i o n " and whether he considers i t de s i r a b l e . The answer probably

l i e s with the w i l l . Maskelyne acts not according to h i s w i l l , but

according to r u l e . He i s what Dostoevsky*s recluse c a l l s a "normal"

man, a "man of character, an ac t i v e man", and t h i s sort of man i s

"pre-eminently a l i m i t e d c r e a t u r e " . 2 Dostoevsky explains, "To begin

to a c t , you know, you must f i r s t have your mind completely at ease

iTime and Bestern Man, p. 406

^Notes, pp. 55, 65.

21

and no trace of doubt l e f t i n i t " . To anyone who sees himself

r e f l e c t e d i n many mirrors simultaneously, such a state i s im­

po s s i b l e .

B. The Two Meanings of " R e f l e c t i o n "

The two meanings of " r e f l e c t i o n " , the outer image and the

inner thought,' are both involved i n D u r r e l l ' s a l l u s i o n s to mirrors,

since both are r e f l e c t i o n s of various aspects of the s e l f , since

the outward i s co n t i n u a l l y used to suggest the inner, and since- 3

the goal i s t o unite outward and inner i n the unitary s e l f .

The inner sense of " r e f l e c t i o n " , defined by Sartre as "the

attempt on the part of consciousness to become i t s own o b j e c t " , 1 i s

always concerned with time and memory, looking back and ordering

the past i n the l i g h t of present thought. It rearranges r e a l i t y

without a l t e r i n g i t , as a l l mirrors rearrange s p a t i a l and dimen­

sio n a l r e l a t i o n s h i p s , or the v i s u a l i l l u s i o n thereof, without a c t u a l l y

moving anything.

Memory i s r e f l e c t e d r e a l i t y — l i k e the mirror, the c r y s t a l or the echo. The thing remembered i s not quite as i t was; curiously, i t i s the same, though changed....

Perhaps the f a s c i n a t i o n i n a l l r e f l e c t i o n i s the essence of poetry.^

Art i s a means of r e f l e c t i o n i n either sense, whether i t holds the

mirror up to nature i n a d e l i b e r a t e l y patterned comment on present

J-Being and Nothingness (New York, 1956), p. 633.

2E.A. C o l l a r d , e d i t o r i a l i n the Montreal Gazette, January 11, 1964, p. 8.

22

r e a l i t y , or r e c o l l e c t s emotion i n t r a n q u i l l i t y i n an equally de­

l i b e r a t e r e - c r e a t i o n of past experience.

Satre's d e f i n i t i o n applies equally well to inner and outer

r e f l e c t i o n ; i n both cases, the subject i s i t s own object, looking

at or thinking about i t s e l f . If one i s to see one's s e l f i n a

mirror, one must step back several paces. Pressing h i s face

against the g l a s s , the subject sees only h i s eye, enormous and

grotesque. 1 A l i c e walked away from the flowers i n order to reach

them, and a f t e r l i v i n g away from Alexandria, Darley could say,

"My sympathy had discovered a new element i n s i d e i t s e l f - detach­

ment." (C, p. 33)

This detachment i s paradoxical. From the s e l f ' s point

of view, i t i s a d i s i n t e g r a t i o n of unitary p e r s o n a l i t y i n t o two

parts, subject and object. But from an outside view, i t i s a

union of two separate concepts, of subject and of object. Mount­

o l i v e and Maskelyne are both r i g h t and both wrong, although they

are opposed. They are dealing with the same s i t u a t i o n , but the

s i t u a t i o n as viewed by Mountolive d i f f e r s r a d i c a l l y from that

viewed by Maskelyne, and the d i f f e r e n c e i s i n the viewer. Moreover,

t h i s r e l a t i v e d i s i n t e g r a t i o n i s taking place within the i n d i v i d u a l .

Jung's i n t r o v e r t has to deal with the e x t e r i o r world, and the i n t e r ­

i o r world pursues h i s extravert i n t o h i s outer l i f e : " i f a man i s

f i x e d upon the outer r e a l i t y , he must l i v e h i s myth; i f he i s turned

I c f . Justine and Messim, " t h e i r open eyes s t a r i n g i n t o each other.with the sightlessness of inhuman objects".

(M, p. 215)

23

towards the inner r e a l i t y , then must he dream h i s outer, h i s so-called

r e a l l i f e " . 1

The question, as A l i c e and the Red King knew, i s where to draw

the l i n e between dream and r e a l i t y , t r u t h and falsehood. Perhaps

there i s ho l i n e ; perhaps inner and outer are the same, or images of

each other. Sometimes D u r r e l l subordinates the Alexandrians to Alexan­

d r i a , but i t turns out that Alexandria i s part of a landscape of the

mind, so that at times there i s no d i s t i n c t i o n between Alexandrians

and Alexandria. Groddeck contends that "man creates the world i n h i s

own image, that a l l h i s inventions and a c t i v i t i e s , h i s science, a r t ,

finance, l i t e r a t u r e , vocabulary, i n d u s t r i e s and philosophies are i n

a s p e c i a l sense symbolic of h i s nature and p r i m i t i v e experience". 2

D u r r e l l ' s Clea remarks about bombing-planes: "'I've always believed

that our inventions mirror our secret wishes, and we wish f o r the

end of the city-man, don't we? 1" (M, p. 145) C i v i l i z a t i o n i s a mirror

of our c o l l e c t i v e selves, and each a r t i f a c t a minor of i t s designer.

Jung too defines "the world" as "how I see the world, my a t t i t u d e to

the world ...'my w i l l ' and 'my presentation'". Even the d i f f e r e n c e s

between the outer world and the inner dream are created by "my Yes

and No", 3 by what I accept or r e j e c t .

Groddeck speculates concerning the pre-natal existence, " i t

seems l i k e l y that I must then have taken everything that surrounded

1Jung, p. 210

2Groddeck, p. 25

3Jung, p. 237

24

me to be part of myself, s e l f and environment being one united whole".

This p r i m i t i v e state endures i n Alexandria, d e s c r i p t i o n of environment

being also d e s c r i p t i o n of s e l f . The recurrence of the mirror image i s

one of the most prevalent and subtle examples of t h i s tendency.

Discussing p h i l o s o p h i c a l idealism, Wyndham Lewis postulates

a world i h which a l l phenomena of the environment are projections from

the s e l f , which, i n the ext e r i o r world, i s i t s e l f a mere r e f l e c t i o n :

The impression of r e a l i t y that you receive from within has t h i s p e c u l i a r i t y , namely, that the i l l u s i o n i n t h i s case i s you r s e l f . . . .

In the case of the per s o n a l i t y , i f you consider the e x t e r i o r world as a mirror world, you are in s i d e the image i n the mirror (Lewis's i t a l i c s ) . . . . The 'objects* that are i t s o r i g i n a l s exist merely f o r i t . . . the s o l i d projections as i t were of t h i s one, immaterial t h i n g . Looked at i n that way, to be coloured . and to be extended i s , conversely, i n t h i s connection to be unreal.^

Here the inner i s projected i n t o the outer so that the outer becomes

dependent on the inner. There i s an i d e n t i t y of consciousness and

environment, and the d i s t i n c t i o n between the " r e f l e c t i o n " of thought

and the " r e f l e c t i o n " of the mirror becomes blu r r e d .

C. The Single Image

The simplest form of the mirror image i s that i n which a

person sees h i s own r e f l e c t i o n i n a single-view, non-magical common

or garden mirror. In a sense, the mirror has an extra dimension.

It i s , - i n a ctual fact a plane surface, but usurps the q u a l i t y of depth

and even of time. When an Alexandrian looks i n the mirror he i s l i k e l y

to see not only h i s face, but his mind and heart, past, present and

x p . 92

2j3p. 405, 406

25

future, returning h i s gaze. Justine, whose self-obsession i s severe

enough to have at least pretensions to neurosis, spends an inordinate

amount of time before a mirror. Vanity i s not her motive; most of

the time she scarcely sees her present beauty at a l l . A rnauti, her

former husband and companion i n her wild goose chase a f t e r analysts,

quotes her as saying, "'I always see i n the mirror the image of an

aging fury*". ( J , p. 192) She t a l k s to the mirror rather than to

her lover, about actions performed "to i n v i t e s e l f - d i s c o v e r y " . What

she says reveals a mirror-mind, r e f l e c t i n g the words and thoughts of

other minds. ( J , pp. 202-203) The outer mirror i s u s u a l l y r e l a t e d to

an inner mirror. A f t e r a tense discussion with Nessim of i n t r i g u e s

p o l i t i c a l and e r o t i c , a discussion containing many unspoken suggestions,

she goes to the mirror to study "her own sorrowful,haunted face". (J_,

p. 212) But the r e v e l a t i o n which follows i s Nesslm's, not her own.

Self-discovery has something to do with the s e l f ' s r e l a t i o n s h i p to other

selves.

Nessim encounters mirrors as often as Justine does, though l e s s

d e l i b e r a t e l y . He t r i e s to see himself as he appears to Justine.(M, p. 195)

Examining h i s own r e f l e c t i o n , he i s s i c k with s e l f - l o a t h i n g and s e l f -

contempt, s t r i c k e n with the m u l t i p l i c i t y of h i s own motives/ (M,. p. 202)

Under the s t r a i n , he too becomes preoccupied with h i s own mind and

addresses h i s r e f l e c t i o n as i f i t were a separate e n t i t y , but one that

was, and should be again, part of himself:

Now too he noticed that he i n v o l u n t a r i l y repeated phrases aloud to which h i s conscious mind refused to l i s t e n . 'Good', she heard him t e l l one of h i s mirrors, 'so you are f a l l i n g i n t o a neurasthenia*. (J_, p. 159)

26

The s p l i t i n himself becomes so acute that he sees i n a complete

stranger "a strong yet d i s t o r t e d resemblance to himself as he turned

i n the mirror". (J_, p. 194) He imagines the r e f l e c t i o n coming out from

the mirror, and the separated part of the s e l f assuming an existence

on i t s own.

A p u b l i c o f f i c i a l with power to command action and, supposedly,

to r e a l i z e h i s own dream image of himself, Mountolive catches several

revealing glimpses i n mirrors as he passes by. One of these r e f l e c ­

t i o n s i s provided through another's r e f l e c t i o n . S i r Louis, the

ambassador to Russia, discusses h i s own shortcomings with himself i n

the mirror and t h i s banishes some of Mountolive's i l l u s i o n s regarding

t h e i r exalted rank. (M, pp. 76, 79) But, once arrayed i n h i s own sym­

b o l i c f i n e r y , Mountolive i s "quite surprised to see how handsome he

looked i n a mirror". (M, p. 130) This preoccupation with the super­

f i c i a l s e l f obscures the r e a l problems, h i s own and the state's. His

condition i s s t a t i c , when the need i s f o r a c t i o n . As Nessim questioned

h i s neurasthenia, Mountolive wonders, "Am I slowly becoming i r r e s i s t i b l e

to myself?" (M, p. 141) A f t e r h i s re-encounter with L e i l a , which i s an

encounter with h i s own past s e l f and with the Egypt of h i s past, he

disguises himself and ventures i n t o the low l i f e of the Arab Quarter.

Here he f i n d s horrors enough to r e f l e c t the horrors of h i s own uncon­

scious. Seeing h i s incognito s e l f i n the mirror, he i s again "quite

surprised", t h i s time at the transformation. (M, p. 285) Mountolive's

surprise at h i s r e f l e c t i o n s implies a deeper sort of s u r p r i s e . The

image of the handsome ambassador gives way to that of a man involved

with the l i v e s of other men, f i n d i n g himself a major character i n a

27

story of treason, s u i c i d e , f r a t r i c i d e , incest and adultery. The process

of Mountolive's s e l f - d i s c o v e r y i s marked by h i s surprise at the unexpec­

ted character of himself and the other selves on whose r e l a t i v e existence

h i s own depends.

Pursewarden's use of mirrors i s a conscious one. He i s an

a r t i s t , whose aesthetic theories are very l i k e those of Mr. D u r r e l l ,

and he understands the nature of the symbol. He scolds himself i n the

mirror (B_, p. 121) and mocks the r e f l e c t i o n of "the great Pursewarden

himself" (M, p. 158), casting an ever-so-slight shade of mockery onto

the hundreds of pages of h i s p o n t i f i c a t i o n s which swell the Alexandria

Quartet. He has a habit of wr i t i n g on the mirror with h i s shaving s t i c k ,

sometimes a quotation f o r contemplation or f o r s a t i r e (B_, p. 123); some­

times a mock epitaph, which i s deadly serious i n i t s suggestion of

fundamental uncertainty:

'I never knew which side my art was buttered' Were the Last Words that poor Pursewarden uttered!

F i n a l l y , the mirror receives h i s suicide message, with i t s warning to

Nessim, the r e a l epitaph t h i s time. (B_, p. 150; M, p. 214). Pursewarden's

mirror i s multiple-viewed, however, and t h i s man who proclaims h i s views

a u t h o r i t a t i v e l y throughout the book, remains an enigma, with at least

three motives f o r suicide; h i s necessary betrayal of h i s f r i e n d Nessim

to h i s f r i e n d Mountolive; h i s incestuous love f o r L i z a , who i s f a l l i n g

i n love with Mountolive; or h i s awareness that he had reached the apex

of h i s a r t i s t i c accomplishment and usefulness. None of the motives i s

a s a t i s f a c t o r y explanation.

Besides these continuous mirror mortifs, each r e f l e c t i n g a

major character, there are r e f l e c t i n g images scattered though the four

28

books, always showing at least a hint of some t r u t h not h i t h e r t o apparent.

Narouz sees h i s c r i p p l e d father pointing a p i s t o l at h i s r e f l e c t i o n and

r e a l i z e s the intimacy of the r e l a t i o n s h i p s which bind h i s parents and

Mountolive, Nessim and Mountolive, Nessim and Narouz and t h e i r parents.

(B, p. 249; M, p. 37 - 38) Darley and Melissa say good-bye i n a cab and

t a l k of the q u a d r i l a t e r a l love which included them with Nessim and Justine,

and are aware that "the d r i v e r watched us i n the mirror l i k e a spy....

He watched us as one might watch cats making love". ( J , p. 225 - 226).

In t h i s s i m i l e , the tender leave-taking becomes a strange complex of

love, pornography and b e s t i a l i t y . Pombal, the casanova, confused at

f i n d i n g himself i n love, addresses hi s own reflection; he "who believed

so many things about love" i s seeing unsuspected truths about himself

and h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p to others. (C_, p. 41) Darley and Pombal and,

one gathers, most of the male characters i n the Quartet, gaze at them­

selves and each other i n the barber-shop mirrors ( J , p. 36; B, p. 24).

The barber's name, Mnemjian, suggests memory, time and also mimesis, a

representation or image of t r u t h . He knows everything about everyone;

l i k e the mirror, he contains hidden t r u t h . In h i s shop i s a group photo­

graph, which serves as a mirror f o r memories. The pictured Darley i s

"the perfected image of a schoolteacher". (B_, p.24) The threadbare i n ­

e f f e c t u a l f i g u r e i s not the f i n a l form of Darley, but i t i s Darley

before he looked i n t o the multiple mirrors.

At Carnival the whole group, disguised, anonymous, i n d i s t i n g u i s h ­

able from one another even i n sex, f i n d i n t h e i r c o l l e c t i v e r e f l e c t i o n

a perception i n t o t h e i r c o l l e c t i v e nature and the ambiguities and decep­

t i o n s which bind them a l l together:

They put on the velveteen capes and adjusted t h e i r masks l i k e the actors they were, comparing

29

t h e i r i d e n t i c a l r e f l e c t i o n s as they stood side by side i n the two swollen mirrors among the palms.... The i n q u i s i t o r s of pleasure and pain, the Alexandrians. (B_, pp.198 - 199)

The portentous glance i n the mirror occurs i n D u r r e l l ' s l e s s e r

works a l s o . In The Dark Labyrinth, Fearmax becomes aware of h i s own

l o n e l i n e s s and lack of humor only when he focusses on h i s r e f l e c t i o n

i n a hotel mirror and i n shopwindows. (PL, pp. 115, 117) And Joanna,

i n D u r r e l l ' s version of Royidis' Pope Joan, begins her alarming career

a f t e r contemplating her own beauty mirrored i n a pond. (Pope, pp. 26 - 27)

A l l t h i s gazing i n mirrors i s not e n t i r e l y accidental on the

part of D u r r e l l * s people. Most of them recognize t h e i r own n a r c i s s ­

ism and comment on i t , as w i l l be seen more i n the discussion of

multiple mirrors. They use mirror metaphors i n t h e i r own comments and

perceptions. Mountolive i n the embassy i n Russia "had a sudden image

of them a l l f l o a t i n g b e l l y upward i n a snowy lake, l i k e bodies of

trapped frogs gleaming upward through the mirror of i c e " , (M, p. 62)

Often they recognize t h e i r problem, the s t a t i c examination of s e l f ,

and, as Pursewarden says, they "are incapable of thinking f o r ourselves;

about, yes". (C_, p. 134)

D u r r e l l ' s Sappho, l i k e Justine, sees the r e f l e c t i o n of an aging

fury (and l i k e Justine i s involved i n a confusion of love and p o l i t i c s ) :

The moment at the mirror i s the worst of the day. We measure our self-contempt wrinkle by wrinkle, Our disgust i s at the s t a l e breath, l a c k l u s t r e eye, A l l the wear and tear of being without ever becoming.

(S^ P. 79)

Being i s s t a t i c , becoming i s a c t i v e . D u r r e l l does not end h i s t e t r a ­

logy, but s u f f i x e s a number of suggested s t a r t i n g points f o r new develop­

ments. Darley has freed himself from the stagnation of being and attained

30

a k i n e t i c state of becoming. What the a r t i s t creates i s himself.

The s e l f i n the Black Book i>s f r u s t r a t e d by the v e i l of f l e s h

which hides i t s own essence: " i am again standing naked i n front of

the mirror, puzzled by the obstructing f l e s h " . (BB, p. 203) When he

does see the r e f l e c t i o n , i t i s not quite what he wished i t to be: "he

f i n d s himself face to face with h i s anonymity, and i s unable to outstare

i t " . (BB, p. 222) There i s something unknown within himself, something

basic and quiescent and unreachable: "the other, the not-me, the f i g ­

ment, the embryo, the white something which l i e s behind my face i n the

mirror". (BB, p. 71) The germ of s e l f i s being, essence, hidden by the

present f l e s h . Jung has defined the ego as "only the subject of my

consciousness" i n contrast to the s e l f , which i s "the subject of my

t o t a l i t y ' " . 1 Groddeck describes the problem of the inescapable I:

' rI am I* - we cannot get away from i t , and even while I assert that the proposition i s f a l s e , I am obliged to act as i f i t were t r u e . 2

But " i am i " i s a tautology; the problem i s to f i n d a meaningful sub­

s t i t u t e phrase f o r the second " i " . "But the key to everything seems

to me to be s e l f - l i b e r a t i o n and s e l f - d i s c o v e r y - an important r e l i g i o u s

and a r t i s t i c bias of mind". (A & 0, p. 24) D u r r e l l means these words

to apply to Henry M i l l e r ' s Sexus, but t h i s "bias of mind", concerned

with f r e e i n g the s e l f f o r action by unravelling the complexities which bind

i t , i s the bias of h i s own mind and of the minds of h i s puppets.

!p. 540

2 p . 82

3John Press finds that D u r r e l l ' s poetry "reveals the patterns of a mind that s h i f t s c o n t i n u a l l y l i k e s u n l i t water r e f l e c t e d i n a mirror". The Chequer*d Shade (London, 1958), p. 40. Sometimes one suspects D u r r e l l ' s a s s o c i a t i o n with mirrors i s i n e v i t a b l e and compulsive.

31

D. R e f l e c t i o n i n Another S e l f

Frequently, the r e f l e c t i o n of the s e l f i s not a simple I to

I r e l a t i o n s h i p , but proceeds through the means of another " i " , whose

words or person may serve as a mirror. The most obvious mirror of

t h i s sort i s love, i n which partners r e f l e c t each other; and t h i s

subject w i l l warrant a chapter to i t s e l f . For the moment, l e t us

consider the mirroring of the s e l f i n other selves. Pursewarden,

with h i s p r o l i f i c i n s i g h t s i n t o everything, functions as a c r u e l l y

accurate mirror of Darley, the other a r t i s t , and, probably le s s

c r u e l l y , of other characters. Balthazar describes t h i s q u a l i t y ,

the mirror being the seeing, perceiving, r e f l e c t i n g eye: "His (Purse-

warden's) eyes ... looked i n t o other eyes, i n t o other ideas, with a

r e a l candour, rather a t e r r i f y i n g sort of l u c i d i t y " . (B_, p. I l l )

He i s not a comfortable sort of companion, even to himself, as h i s

suicide i n d i c a t e s . He i s conscious of the mirroring of selves by

other selves, and, as usual only p a r t l y i n j e s t , uses the idea to

j u s t i f y the B r i t i s h monarchy:

A Royal Family i s a mirror image of the human, a legitimate i d o l a t r y . . . . No, they are a b i o l o g i c a l necessity, Kings. Perhaps they mirror the very c o n s t i t u t i o n of the psyche?

(M, pp. 62, 63)

For Pursewarden who works f o r the Foreign o f f i c e , as well

as f o r Mountolive the ambassador and Nessim the conspirator, the

B r i t i s h imperial t r a d i t i o n complete with s t i f f upper l i p i s part of

32

v i t a l personal problems. 1

But, Pursewarden's glass could be seen only darkly. The selves

which mirror one another also confuse one another with masks of super­

f i c i a l i t i e s and obscure the truths which might have been r e f l e c t e d : "we

l i v e i n the shallows of one another's p e r s o n a l i t i e s and cannot r e a l l y see

in t o the depths beneath". (B_, p. 141) Narcissus's pond i s clouded over

with the pale cast of thought-reflection, i t s waters stagnant.

Darley himself i s a mirror, observing, absorbing, and r e f l e c t i n g

a l l i n h i s w r i t i n g . In a ballroom with "shivering mirrors" Clea asks

him, "Why do you prefer to s i t apart and study us a l l ? " (B_, p. 233)

The shivering mirrors are part of an e f f e c t i v e d e s c r i p t i o n of s e t t i n g ,

but they serve as a symbolic complement to Clea's question. D u r r e l l ' s i

mirrors u s u a l l y exhibit t h i s dual nature, simuUtaheously tangible thing

and symbol of i n t a n g i b l e . Perhaps t h i s i s the e s s e n t i a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c

of any successful symbol.

The s e l f sees i t s reflection i n curious places. A f t e r Narouz*s

impassioned oration follows "the germinal s i l e n c e i n which you can

hear the very seeds i n the human psyche s t i r r i n g , t r y i n g to move t o ­

wards the l i g h t of s e l f - r e c o g n i t i o n " . (M, p. 125) This again i s

Pursewarden*s remark. Narouz i s close to the basic nature of things,

The p o s s i b i l i t y of a p o l i t i c a l theme f o r the Alexandria Quartet i s suggested by Charles Rolo i n h i s review of Mountolive: " i t may be that the theme of the serie s w i l l turn out to be the f a t a l t en­dency of the Engli s h i n the Middle East to be blinded by romanticism". ( A t l a n t i c , CCIII, No. 4 ( A p r i l , 1959), p. 134). Mountolive and L e i l a are England and Egypt, west and east. The l i g h t e r books, E s p r i t de Corps and S t i f f Upper L i p , are based on D u r r e l l ' s experiences i n the diplomatic corps. Two thousand years a f t e r Caesar, Antonies are s t i l l f i n d i n g t h e i r downfalls i n Egypt.

33

a man of the land, u n c i v i l i z e d . The archetypal forms are near the sur­

face of h i s consciousness, and h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p s with h i s parents, h i s

brother, and h i s v a i n l y loved Clea are fundamental and quite simple i n

themselves. For him, complications a r i s e from without. Because he i s

i n touch with the e s s e n t i a l things, he i s a seer, and h i s own simple

nature i s capable of mirroring the t r u t h of many sophisticated selves.

Euth Adams i n The Dark Labyrinth f i n d s the t r u t h about l i f e i n

her brother. His death i s a removal i n t o h i s appropriate world, a

looking-glass world:

'I learned from him that death doesn't exist except i n the imagination. Thus I was hardly sad when h i s discontent c a r r i e d him through to the other side - l i k e stepping i n t o a mirror*.

(PL, p. 249)

There i s no death, only the mirror i s the imagination, the mind, the s e l f .

This i s suggested also i n Parley's observation on Pursewarden's death:

Nor, f o r the purpose of t h i s w r i t i n g , has he ceased to exi s t ; he has simply stepped i n t o the q u i c k s i l v e r of a mirror as we a l l must -to leave our i l l n e s s e s , our e v i l acts, the hornets* nest of our desi r e s , s t i l l operative i n the r e a l world - which i s the memory of our f r i e n d s . ( J , p. 118)

A few hours before h i s su i c i d e , Pursewarden s p i t s upon the mirror, and

h i s r e f l e c t i o n l i q u e f i e s , d i s i n t e g r a t e s as he himself was soon to do,

death allowing the " r e a l " s e l f to become i d e n t i c a l with the mirror s e l f .

( J , p. 119)

In P u r r e l l ' s poem "The P i l o t " , there i s a question as to who the

potter i s and who the pot.

Sure a l o v e l y day and a l l weather Leading westward to Ireland and our childhood. On the quarters of heaven, held by s t a r s , The Hunter and Arcturus g e t t i n g ready -The elect of heaven a l l burning on the wheel.

This l o v e l y morning must the p i l o t leaning In the eye of heaven f e e l the i s l a n d

34

Turning beneath him, burning soft and blue -And a l l t h i s mortal globe l i k e a great lamp With spines of r i v e r s , f a m i l i e s of c i t i e s Seeming to the s o l i t a r y boy so Local and queer yet so much a part of him.

The enemies of sile n c e have come nearer, Turn, turn to the morning on wild elbows: Look down through the f i v e senses l i k e stars To where our l i v e s l i e small and equal l i k e two grains Before Chance - the hawk's eye or the p i l o t ' s Round and shining on the open sky, Re f l e c t i n g back the innocent world i n i t .

(P, P. 9)

The world r e f l e c t s the l i f e of the p i l o t , and h i s eye i n turn

r e f l e c t s "the innocent world". We are a l l mirrors together. The s e l f

mirrors another s e l f which i s mirroring i t , and therefore i n mirroring

the other, each also mirrors i t s e l f . This crosseyed r e f l e c t i n g process

may be elucidated by reference to E r i c h Kahler's essay "The Nature of

the Symbol"."1"

Inasmuch as the human being has come to extend h i s existence over manifold spheres, h i s communication with h i s outer world turns i n t o a communication with h i s s e l f , of h i s p r a c t i c a l work with h i s t h e o r e t i c a l mind, and - since the outer expansion r e f l e x i v e l y involved i n an inner, psychic expansion - of h i s Ego with h i s Id, with the l i g h t e d depths of h i s unconsciousness.

The i n v o l u t i o n of r e f l e c t i o n s and communications seems to be approach-

ing the desired r e u n i f i c a t i o n of the i n d i v i d u a l s e l f .

1Symbolism i n R e l i g i o n and L i t e r a t u r e , ed. Rollo May (New York, 1961), p. 52.

2Rank shows how the Pythagoreans brought the numbers of man and the universe i n t o "an inward r e l a t i o n " , so they are "mirror-images of one another". (Art and A r t i s t , p. 117, Rank's I t a l i c s ) It i s not, as i n the popular song, "I see the moon, the moon sees me, but "I see me i n the moon; the moon sees the moon i n me" - a sort of cosmic so l i p s i s m .

35

E. R e f l e c t i o n s of Another S e l f

Sometimes the s i g n i f i c a n t r e f l e c t i o n i s not one's own, but

that of someone e l s e . One comes to know the other better by studying

h i s r e f l e c t i o n . Darley l i k e s to describe h i s mistresses as they pose

before mirrors. We have noticed Justine's habit of holding long con­

versations with her r e f l e c t i o n . Melissa's mirror, as Richard Aldington

has pointed out, not only r e f l e c t s but i s a r e f l e c t i o n of her: "a

single poignant s t r i p of cracked mirror". (J_, p. 199) 1 That i s

Melissa, s o l i t a r y , "poignant" and broken. In t h i s mirror she sees

Nessim's servant Selim appear to r e f l e c t Nessim's g r i e f , which i s i n

turn a r e f l e c t i o n of her own g r i e f . Here are mirrors within mirrors,

Darley learning about Melissa, Melissa learning about Nessim. And

each r e f l e c t i o n of someone close to oneself i s also a r e f l e c t i o n of

one's s e l f , and lovers are r e f l e c t i o n s of each other. Melissa and

mirrors are r e l a t e d , because, Darley suggests, he and she r e f l e c t each

other * s oondit ion; they are "fellow-bankrupts". (J_, p. 23) Seeing

Melissa's o l d , r i c h , ugly lover Cohen i n a mirror, Darley r e a l i z e s

" f o r the f i r s t time that he probably loved Melissa as much as I d i d " .

This r e f l e c t i o n reveals the ambiguous and complex nature of love:

the p o s s i b i l i t y of a tender r e l a t i o n s h i p between the gross Cohen and

the poignant Melissa, the hardness i n t h i s poignancy and the f r i e n d l i ­

ness i n enmity, which takes Darley to Cohen's deathbed when Melissa refuses

to go.

The mirror and a sudden r e a l i z a t i o n often coincide. En route

to the f a t e f u l duckhunt, the culmination of the many mysteries of the

36

f i r s t novel, Darley recognizes t h e i r mutual f r i e n d Capodistria as

"the author of a l l Justine's misfortunes", the r a p i s t of her c h i l d ­

hood. "From time to time", he catches Nessim*s eye i n the d r i v i n g

mirror. Nessim*s r e f l e c t e d smile contains, but does not r e v e a l , the

answers to many questions. ( J , p. 210)

To know another, one must have more views of him than that

presented to one's own naked eye. In D u r r e l l ' s poem "Fabre" (P, p. 106),

the n a t u r a l i s t i s f a u l t l e s s i n "exact observation", but inept i n human

perception. He may have mastered the t h i r t e e n s c i e n t i f i c ways of look­

ing at a b l a c k b i r d , but not the countless ways of looking at a man or

woman:

If r e a l women were l i k e moths he didn't n o t i c e . There was not a looking-glass i n the whole house.

Fabre's s c i e n t i f i c method cannot cope with human r e a l i t y , because i t

depends t o t a l l y on h i s own detached s e l f , never on involvement and

communication with other selves.

The mirror may be a f f e c t e d by i t s own act of r e f l e c t i o n .

Alexandria, as a mirror of these people, becomes them, a landscape of

the mind, with a human character. The s e l f revealing t r u t h about

another f i n d s also h i s own t r u t h . Again, i t i s an ambiguity of potter

and pot. The Greek poet, C.P. Cavafy, i d o l i z e d i n the Quartet as the

"old poet of the c i t y " , has a poem which i l l u s t r a t e s t h i s . A handsome

boy looks b r i e f l y at himself i n a large old mirror i n amansion to

which he goes on business:

The old mirror was glad now And was proud to have received upon i t s e l f That e n t i r e beauty f o r a few minutes. 1

l n T h e mirror i n the H a l l " , The Poems of C.P. Cavafy, trans. John Mavrogordato (London, 195]), p. 192.

37

Darley's attempt to r e f l e c t h i s fellow Alexandrians i n h i s

n a r r a t i v e i s the determining act i n h i s own development.

George Steiner discusses the manner i n which D u r r e l l ' s charac­

t e r s mirror each other, and finds these mirrors "dangerous" because

"although they multiply v i s i o n and drive i t inward, they also shut i t

o f f from the outside"'. 1 The outside becomes i n s i d e , so there i s no

o b j e c t i v i t y , only an excessive s u b j e c t i v i t y , and the main a c t i v i t y of

mind i s to "watch the mirror watching Vou". ("Cradle Song", P_, p. 16)

Cavafy's mirror returns a perception not t o the boy who looks i n t o i t ,

but only to i t s e l f .

F. Multiple-View Mirrors: Prism-Sightedness

I remember her s i t t i n g before the multiple mirrors at the dressmaker's, being f i t t e d f o r a sharkskin costume, and saying: "Look! f i v e d i f f e r e n t p i c t u r e s of the same subject. Now i f I wrote I would t r y f o r a multi-dimensional e f f e c t i n character, a sort of prism-sightedness. Why should not people show more than one p r o f i l e at a time?" ( J , p. 27)

Justine i s advising Darley to do p r e c i s e l y what t h e i r creator

has set out to do. This l i t t l e scene i s a parable of the method

D u r r e l l employs i n the Quartet. He gives at least f i v e views of

Justine, f o r instance, not one of which shows her whole person.

And t h i s whole continues to elude condensation i n t o the sum of i t s

parts, but remains prism-like, complete but shattered, s c i n t i l l a t i n g

and r e f r a c t i v e . We cannot look equally at a l l the mirrors at once,

and which p r o f i l e we see depends on which mirror we use and on where

"Lawrence D u r r e l l : The Baroque Novel", World, p. 21.

38

we are standing while we use i t . The prism i n the poem "By the

Lake", r e f l e c t s a woman who i s reminiscent of both Justine and

Melissa:

If seen by many minds at once your image As i n a prism f a l l i n g breaks i t s e l f , Or looking upwards from a gleaming spoon Defies: a smile squeezed up and vanishing In roundels of div e r s i o n l i k e the moon.

Yet there you are confirmed by the smallest Wish or k i s s upon the r i s i n g darkness But r o o t l e s s as a wick a f l o a t i n water, Fatherless as shoes walking over dead leaves; A patient whom no envy s t i r s but joy And what the harsh chords of experience leaves -

This dark soft eye, so l i q u i d now and hoarse With pleasure: or your arms i n mirrors Combing out s o f t l y h a i r As l o v e l y as a planet's and remote.

How many several small forevers Whispered i n the r i n d of the ear Melissa, by t h i s Mediterranean sea-edge, Captured and to l d ? How many additions to the t o t a l silence?

Surely we increased you by very l i t t l e , But as with a net or gun to make your victims men?

(P, p. 84)

The image 'defies" capture, presents a d i f f e r e n t f a c t to each of the

"many minds". The s u b s t i t u t i o n of mind f o r eye suggests again the

two types of " r e f l e c t i o n " . The s i g n i f i c a n c e of any or a l l of the

images i s a question: "How many several small forevers..,?/How many

additions to the t o t a l s i l e n c e ? " The sum of the prismed views makes

a t o t a l which i s s i l e n c e , empty, incomplete and i n a r t i c u l a t e . So

although the minds viewing the woman are many, they increase the

concepts of her unitary s e l f "by very l i t t l e " , and the e f f e c t has been

on themselves as much as on her, since they have made i t possible f o r

39

her to ensnare " v i c t i m s " , and f o r these victims to be men.

The mirror-prism i s multiple-viewed i n two ways: i t presents

several views of a si n g l e object, and the object i s viewed by several

persons. View and viewer are both prismatic.

The i n t r i c a t e e f f e c t which may be achieved by using mirror-

symbolism and multiple points of view i s suggested by Lawrance Thompson's

de s c r i p t i o n of William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury

Each of these four s t r u c t u r a l u n i t s , thus contiguous, hinged, set at a d i f f e r e n t angle from the others, might be c a l l e d analagous to those hinged and contiguous haberdashery mirrors which permit us to contemplate the immediate p i c t u r e r e f l e c t e d i n any si n g l e one of those mirrors, and then to contemplate secondary or subordinate pictures which are r e f l e c t i o n s of r e f l e c t i o n s i n each of the separate m i r r o r s . 1

This i s l i k e Justine's mirror and suggests a na r r a t i v e p r i n c i p l e

s i m i l a r to D u r r e l l ' s . 2 Each of the four sections might conceivably

be read as a separate e n t i t y , but, thus read, i t i s not the same story

as i t i s i n context. The r e f l e c t i o n s of r e f l e c t i o n s within r e f l e c t i o n s

lead the reader deep i n t o a world where s e l f i s enclosed on a l l sides

by i t s e l f . • - .

In a comment on the Undergroyn.d Man, Frederick J . Hoffman

speaks of "the mirror images, which multiply and f r a c t i o n a t e the s e l f ,

1 " M i r r o r Analogues i n The Sound and the Fury" i n William Faulkner: Three Decades of C r i t i c i s m , ed. E . J . Hoffman and Olga W. Vickery (New York, 1963), p. 224.

20ne i s u n l i k e l y to mistake D u r r e l l ' s voice f o r Faulkner's., Nevertheless, there are resemblances: mirrors replacing time, various views eliminating the need f o r chronology, incest complicating the process of self-discovery; landscape made inseparable from character; Gothic elements shadowing the present.

40

so that one s e l f becomes many fragments, i n close-order d u p l i c a t i o n s

of i t s e l f " . 1 This h i n t s at the s i n i s t e r aspect of the mirror-view, the

confining and d i s i n t e g r a t i n g nature of prism-sightedness.

D u r r e l l l i k e s to appeal to the p h y s i c i s t s to support h i s p r i s ­

matic theory of f i c t i o n . One might once have imagined a novel which

presented various d i f f e r e n t viewpoints, the sum of which was a f u l l y

rounded picture of something or someone. But E i n s t e i n has made such

a book impossible. The narrator can no longer pretend to be anonymous

or d i s i n t e r e s t e d , because now he himself i s a fa c t o r to be considered

i n the ana l y s i s of anything he observes. Werner Heisenberg explains

that s c i e n t i f i c laws "deal no longer with the p a r t i c l e s themselves but

with our knowledge" of them. 2 The implications of t h i s extend f a r beyond

the bounds of applied science:

For the f i r s t time i n the course of h i s t o r y man on earth faces only himself... The f a m i l i a r c l a s s i f i c a t i o n of the world i n t o subject and object, inner and outer world, body and soul, somehow no longer quite applies .... In science, a l s o , the object of research i s no longer nature i n i t s e l f but rather nature exposed to man's questioning, and to t h i s extent man here also meets himself.

We are back again to the idea that everything i s a mirror. Heisenberg

implies that a l l man's search f o r knowledge i s a search f o r h i s s e l f ,

at least that the two searches are inseparable. In order to come

anywhere near the object, the in v e s t i g a t o r must discover which i s object

^Samuel Becket, p. 43

2"The Representation of Nature i n Contemporary Physics", M#y, pp. 221, 226 - 227, See D u r r e l l ' s Key, passim, e s p e c i a l l y Chapter 2.

41

and which subject and disentangle one from the other.

The disentanglement i s never complete and the object i n i t s e l f

i s unattainable. Because he cannot see beyond himself, the s c i e n t i s t

has had to eject the word "true" from h i s vocabulary, as Wyndham Lewis

points out."'" He does not know whether or not the theory i s t r u e . D u r r e l l

makes Pursewarden, who may be p a r t i a l l y modelled on Lewis, exclaim,

"'Who dares to dream of capturing the f l e e t i n g image of t r u t h i n a l l i t s

gruesome m u l t i p l i c i t y ? * " (C, p. 136) Discussing the impingement of

the ' r e a l * and the 'unreal', the noneelf and the s e l f upon each other,

Lewis mentions the "mirror-imagery" of such p o s t - r e l a t i v i t y philosophers

as Whitehead and Russell; subjective experience, including dreams and

h a l l u c i n a t i o n s , i s the l o c a t i o n of ' r e a l i t y ' . What i s r e a l i s not the

thing i t s e l f , but the image of that thing - one can see only i n a glass

darkly, never face to face. "The r e a l i t y " , says Mr. Lewis, "has d e f i n i t e l y

i n s t a l l e d i t s e l f i n s i d e the contemporary mind".

Jung also speaks of "images", and he too warns that they are

s u b j e c t i v e l y conditioned: " i t i s e s s e n t i a l that the image s h a l l not

immediately be assumed to be i d e n t i c a l with the object; i t i s wiser to

regard i t as an image of the subjective r e l a t i o n of the object".^ The

d e c i s i v e r e a l i t y i s that of the "primordial images" or "archetypes",

which " i n t h e i r t o t a l i t y represent a psychic mirror-world". Jung's

mirror represents the present contents of consciousness i n a form

"somewhat as a million-year old consciousness might see them", seeing

becoming, being and passing together with whatever precedes becoming

^•pp. 367, 368, 453.

2pp. 600, 500.

42

and endures beyond passing. "To t h i s consciousness the present

moment i s improbably'. It i s possible to see how f o r a n o v e l i s t the

mirror view eliminates the need f o r s t r i c t adherence to the order of

clock time; chronology i s l e s s important than the r e l a t i o n s h i p s among

human experiences and perceptions.

These primordial images are the archetypes which Narouz f i n d s

i n h i s own mind at C a r n i v a l , when there i s a concentration'of images,

of "desires engendered i n the f o r e s t s of the mind, belonging not to

themselves but to remote ancestors speaking through them". (B, p. 165)

They are what Darley c a l l s "the mythopoeic reference which underlies

f a c t " , superseding the d e t a i l s of data and information, "the graveyard

of r e l a t i v e f a c t " . (C, p. 176) If these images are r e a l i t y , and i f they

are timeless^ then r e a l i t y i s timeless, and Dur r e l l , w i t h Jung's a s s i s ­

tance, has succeeded i n "eliminating time"; (Cor, p. 19. Above p. 8)

But even these images do not appear the same to everyone, and

Jung declares, "The world e x i s t s not merely i n i t s e l f , but also as i t

appears to me", and "One sees what one can best see from oneself".' 1'

Proust, contemplating the several versions of M. Swann,

agrees that "each time we see the face or hear the voice i t i s our

own ideas of him which we recognise and to which we l i s t e n .

Groddeck*s world consists of p o l a r i t i e s ; "everything contains

i t s opposite within i t s e l f " and can be shown to have "both an inward

and an outward cause". He sees a worldwide tendency towards "thinking",

conscious r e f l e c t i o n , which i s f o r each person an attempt to chart a

pp.- 472, 16

'Swann's Way, p. 15

43

world outside h i m s e l f T h e problem i s to get outside the s e l f i n

order to chart that world. If t h i s cannot be done, the maps w i l l

a l l be d i f f e r e n t , each one charting only i t s cartographer's mind.

D u r r e l l describes Groddeck's system of p o l a r i t i e s as a seeking "to

free himself from the opposites of being, and to emerge in t o

R e a l i t y .... The keynote i s r e i n t e g r a t i o n and acceptance of the war­

r i n g opposites". (Key, p. 83) This i s what occurs i n Clea. The

p o l a r i t i e s , the opposite mirror-views of the f i r s t three novels are

not proved incorrect or dismissed, but are accepted, assimilated i n t o

the l i f e stream of the survivors. The acceptance of the p o l a r i t i e s i s

also an escape from them, because the s e l f i s no longer d i s t o r t e d and

tormented by them, but having accepted them f o r what they are, can

deal with them, take them i n t o account and not be thrown o f f balance

by them. This i s r e i n t e g r a t i o n of inner and outer r e a l i t y , s e l f and

n o t - s e l f , and also s e l f and s e l f , since the p r i n c i p l e of p o l a r i t i e s

applies also to human nature. The " r e a l i t y " i n t o which one i s to

emerge may be a condition i n which action i s desirable and p o s s i b l e .

And i t may also be Jungian R e a l i t y , since i t i s i n Clea that Darley

comes to terms with h i s archetypes and experiences, a death and a

r e b i r t h which are almost too Jungian to be t r u e . In e i t h e r case,

the r e s u l t i s r e i n t e g r a t i o n , the s e l f made whole. This i s "made whole"

also i n the sense of "healed". D u r r e l l quotes E i n s t e i n on the goal of

the searching mind which "looks on i n d i v i d u a l existence as a sort of

prison and wants t o experience the universe as a single s i g n i f i c a n t

pp. 90, 81, 105.

44

whole". (Key, p. 34) In order to experience the whole, he must f i r s t

know the part which i s h i s " i n d i v i d u a l existence" and place i t i n

p o s i t i o n r e l a t i v e to the whole. Neither s e l f nor universe can be

l i f t e d out of t h i s single s i g n i f i c a n t whole. The i n t e n t i o n of the

Alexandrians then seems to be re p a i r i n g the d i s i n t e g r a t i o n brought

about by prism-sightedness, bringing multiple mirrors i n t o j u x t a p o s i t i o n ,

from many and from opposites r e b u i l d i n g the one.

It i s no easy task which i s formulated i n the epigraph to

Balthazar. The words are de Sade's, from Justine, h i s t e r r i b l e farce

on the ambiguities of good and e v i l and of human views of these. His

Justine, l i k e Durrell's„has to deal with the implications of prism-

sightedness:

'The mirror sees the man as b e a u t i f u l , the mirror loves the man; another mirror sees the man as f r i g h t f u l and hates him; and i t i s always the same being who produces the impressions'.

Bonamy Dobree has pointed out that i n t h i s quotation d i f f e r e n t mirrors

have d i f f e r e n t emotions, as well as varying points of view". 1 As ex­

plained by Sade's monk Clement, himself a p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n of v i o l e n t

p o l a r i t i e s , the motions which the man arouses i n the mirror are condi­

tioned by the nature of the mirror, the s e l f ' s response determined by

the s e l f , a response inward rather than outward as i t seems. He uses

the image of the multiple mirror, the t r i c k mirror such as one f i n d s i n

a Pun House at the f a i r , "some of which diminish objects, others of

which enlarge them; some render f r i g h t f u l images of things, some lend

" D u r r e l l ' s Alexandrian S e r i e s " , World, p. 189.

45

them charm". The f r i g h t f u l n e s s or charm depends not on the object to

which i t i s a t t r i b u t e d but on the subject which a t t r i b u t e s i t . 1

D u r r e l l ' s people are very much aware of the gruesome m u l t i ­

p l i c i t y of t r u t h . Balthazar speaks of the i m p o s s i b i l i t y of ever

a t t a i n i n g " t r u t h naked and unashamed", because "we always see her as

she seems, never as she i s . Each man has his own interpretation".

(B, p. 233) And Pursewarden writes, "There are only as many r e a l i t i e s

as you care to imagine". (B, p. 152) They are not saying quite the

same t h i n g . Balthazar i s seeing each man's view as one mirror of

many. Pursewarden here places the m u l t i p l i c i t y within the imagination.

The multiple-mirror i s a multiple of a m u l t i p l i c i t y . Again, inner and

outer worlds mirror one another; the inner s e l f , l i k e the outer world,

i s d i s u n i f i e d and unable to reach a single conclusion about a simple

t r u t h . Darley speculates on Balthazar's r e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of h i s own

story: " i mean that I must t r y and s t r i p the opaque membrane which

stands between me and the r e a l i t y of t h e i r actions - and which I

suppose i s composed of ray own l i m i t a t i o n s of v i s i o n and temperment.

My envy of Pursewarden, my passion f o r Justine, my p i t y f o r Melissa.

D i s t o r t i n g mirrors, a l l of them". (B_, p. 28) He wants to s t r i p away

everything but f a c t , a task never to be accomplished. The various

emotions which Sade also presents as d i s t o r t i n g mirrors are a l l within

the same s e l f . He must deal not only with other persons whose views

c o n f l i c t with h i s but also with the clashing views within himself.

The hinged mirror i s an image of the s e l f as much as of the world.

The Justine of Clea has changed considerably from the Justine of the

"••D.A.F. de Sade, Justine (P a r i s , 1953), pp. 171 - 172.

46

f i r s t novel - or has she? She says, "*You see a d i f f e r e n t me ... But

once again the di f f e r e n c e l i e s i n you, i n what you imagine you s e e l * "

(C, p. 53) Not "what you see" but "what you imagine you see". The

dif f e r e n c e between seer and seen i s greater than i t seems, obscured

by a v e i l of delusion.

If the s e l f contains c o n f l i c t s and p o l a r i t i e s , the s e l f i s

not a u n i t y . The view which presents the concept of one s e l f i s a

d i s t o r t e d view. D u r r e l l has said , outside the Quartet, "I imagine

that what we c a l l p e r sonality may be an i l l u s i o n , and in.thinking of

i t as a stable thing we are t r y i n g to put a l i d on a box with no s i d e s " 1

Pursewarden says, "'Personality as something with f i x e d a t t r i b u t e s i s

an i l l u s i o n - but a necessary i l l u s i o n i f . we are to love**" (B_, pp. 14 -

15) The necessity of a unitary s e l f a r i s e s because of our r e l a t i o n s h i p

to other selvws: "Our view of r e a l i t y i s conditioned by our p o s i t i o n

i n space and time - not by our p e r s o n a l i t i e s as we l i k e to think".

Where we are i n r e l a t i o n to the object determines our view of i t . The

d i s t o r t i n g emotions do not proceed from a u n i f i e d personality; no

single commanding view d i r e c t s Darley to envy, desire or p i t y . This

i s a rather u n s a t i s f a c t o r y state of a f f a i r s , e s p e c i a l l y as one becomes

more aware of the other. There i s a need f o r d e f i n i t i o n and d i s t i n c t i o n

of oneself, and so one. creates from "selected f i c t i o n s " . (B_, pp. 14 - 15;

C, pp. 55, 277) These are " f i c t i o n s " not because they are f a l s e but

because theyare o n l y . r e l a t i v e l y t r u e . From them i s constructed.a s e l f

and a w i l l , which can love and act i n r e l a t i o n to other selves and w i l l s .

"The Kneller Tape", World, p. 163

47

Because the s e l f must be created, the a r t i s t i s an important f i g u r e

i n Alexandria, and because the s e l f i s created i n order to love, the

Quartet can claim to be an " i n v e s t i g a t i o n of modern love".

The notion that the s e l f i s an i l l u s i o n or a deliberate

f a b r i c a t i o n from h a l f - t r u t h s i s not a comfortable one; no one l i k e s

to think of himself as an i l l u s i o n . On the other hand, as Darley r e c a l l s

Balthazar's,saying "Truth i s what most contradicts i t s e l f in.time*"; he

also remembers Pursewarden's " ' I f things were always what they seemed,

howimpoverished would be the imagination of man!*" (B, p. 23) The con­

t i n u a l creation of oneself means that l i f e i s dynamic, i n communication

with other dynamic, f o r c e s . There i s m u l t i p l i c i t y within the mind, but

a prism i s an a t t r a c t i v e object, " t h i s eternal refractioh/Of the thinking

mind touching r e a l i t y " . (Sappho, p. 134) "Touching r e a l i t y " because the

view of external objects i s s u b j e c t i v e l y conditioned; one i s creating

the world as well as oneself, making a coherent sphere from the d i s ­

j o i n t e d planet. Again, the process deals with r e l a t i o n s h i p s , corres­

pondences, and the outer world i s created by absorption i n t o the inner:

To see and a t t r a c t within myself The sweetest and most naked correspondences Of nature, described through the looking-glass I am.

(Sappho, p. 75)

T h i s , as Pursewarden observes, i s "not only the writer's problem". (M,

p. 159) Everyone can be an a r t i s t . "Growing up means separation i n the

i n t e r e s t s of a better, more l u c i d j o i n i n g up". The desirable f i c t i o n s

must be selected and separated out, to be refashioned i n t o a p e r s o n a l i t y

which can function i n " l u c i d j o i n i n g s up" with others.

48

G. The Multiple-View Plot

The structure of the Alexandria Quartet i s i t s e l f analagous

t o the hinged mirrors. The s t o r i e s of Darley*s a f f a i r s with Justine

and Clea, of Nessim's p o l i t i c a l i n t r i g u e , Mountolive*s c o n f l i c t of

l o y a l t i e s and duties, and Pursewarden*s s u i c i d e , a l l i n t r i c a t e l y

mixed with each other and with smaller relevant s t o r i e s , are seen

from d i f f e r e n t points of view, each of which contradicts something

i n the others and adds some new d e t a i l s not seen elsewhere. Where i t does

not contradict or add, i t recasts events innew perspectives, s h i f t i n g

r e l a t i v e p o s i t i o n s , and thus often a l t e r i n g the s i g n i f i c a n c e of a

happening. The fourth book assimilates the other views and addssnew

l i g h t , but s t i l l does not present a complete s i n g l e r e f l e c t i o n .

There are more than four mirrors, however, because the

narrators are generous i n quoting others, e s p e c i a l l y Balthazar,

Pursewarden and A r n a u t i . Events are r e t o l d , l i t e r a l l y recreated. The

episode of the brothel tent i s t o l d from Darley*s viewpoint and l a t e r

from Narouz*s through Balthazar; i n the one disgust and s e l f - l o a t h i n g

i s expressed, i n the other a grotesque wonder. The various versions

of Darley's a l l i a n c e with Justine are never resolved; we are not sure

how much of Justine i s passion and how much i s p o l i t i c s . The l o s s of

Balthazar's watch-key i s examined from several angles and t h i s mystery

too i s not completely solved.

This r e t e l l i n g of episodes from various angles i s a f a i r l y simple

device and could be rather a r t i f i c i a l . What turns the Quartet i n t o a

kaleidoscope of many complexities and in v o l u t i o n s , instead of a scenic

tour which presents photographic views with only the d i r e c t i o n changed,

49

i s the contrapuntal occurrence and recurrence of p a r t i a l l y remembered

faces, objects, events and phrases. Recognition of one of these r e ­

p e t i t i o n s brings the reader up short and sends him delving i n t o the

depths of memory - h i s own, Darley's and the " c o l l e c t i v e " memory f o r

the a s s o c i a t i o n i t has awakened. Pursewarden's shaving mirror,

Balthazar's watch-key, Nessim's R o l l s Royce with d a f f o d i l hubcaps, the

children's blue handprints on the Arab walls, the song "Jamais de l a

v i e " , the scent of Jasmine, the colour mauve i n descriptions of land­

scape. Obviously these are not a l l of equal stature symbolically, but

they serve a s i m i l a r purpose i n b u i l d i n g up through r e p e t i t i o n s and

connections a rich-textured world. A f t e r a l l , l i f e does proceed i n a

framework of r e p e t i t i o n s . Darley notes that he found "Clea at the

exact s t a t i o n i n place and time where I had once found Melissa." (C, p. 76),

but most of these s i m i l a r i t i e s - w i t h - a - d i f f e r e n c e are not commented on;

they occur and i n s i d i o u s l y work upon the reader's consciousness. Several

times Darley and h i s mistress awake to the song of a b l i n d muessin. ( J ,

p. 25; C, p. 99) The mistress and the place vary, and the former s i t u a t i o n

i s not mentioned, but the b l i n d muezzin i s constant, and the reader knows

he has been here before. The words "selected" (or " s e l e c t i v e " ) f i c t i o n s

appear i n at least three contexts, and make t h e i r point; that the whole

f a b r i c of Alexandria i s composed of such f i c t i o n s (B, pp. 14 - 15; C,

pp. 55, 277) Twice we witness the butchering of l i v e camels, once within

the c i t y and onee i n the desert ( J , p. 62; 81, pp. 121-122) 1

•^-Gilbert Murray reports St. Nilus* account of "the sacramental eating of a camel by an Arab t r i b e " . "The camel was devoured on a p a r t i c u l a r day at the r i s i n g of the morning s t a r . He was cut t o pieces a l i v e , and every fragment of him had to be consumed before the sun rose. If the l i f e had once gone out of the f l e s h and blood, the s a c r i f i c e would have been s p o i l t ; i t was the s p i r i t , the v i t a l i t of the camel that h i s tribesmen wanted". (Five Stages of Greek R e l i g i o n (Doubleday Anchor e d i t i o n ) , p. 20. Cf Freud, Totem and Taboo, i n The Basic Writings (New York, 1938), pp. 913, 924.

50

Both times the horror i s appropriate to the immediate scene and also

to something t e r r i b l e and mysterious about the butchers and the people

who observe them. The r e p e t i t i o n s are r e f l e c t i o n s i n D u r r e l l ' s look­

ing-glass world; at each occurrence the repeated motif c a r r i e s not only

i t s i n t r i n s i c s i g n i f i c a n c e , but that of the mirror as well and d i r e c t s

the d e s c r i p t i o n back towards the memory, back within the s e l f .

In the f i r s t novel, when Justine introduces Darley to Nessim,

she i s compared to a gun-dog bringing the prey to her master, and

Darley observes that "whatever she had done had been done i s a sense

fo r him". ( J , p. 32) In the fourth novel, she d e l i v e r s Darley to

Nessim as i f he were a parcel (C, p. 49) and now Darley r e a l i z e s that

hi s e a r l i e r observation was truer than he had thought. The gun-dog

simile i s p a r t i c u l a r l y appropriate now that he r e a l i z e s what Justine

and Nessim were doing at t h e i r spectacular duck-hunt. The t r i a n g u l a r

r e l a t i o n s h i p has become immensely complicated and yet i t i s the same.

Here, i n the normal sense, Darley has proceeded onward i n time, but

by such means as t h i s d u p l i c a t i o n of metaphors he achieves a connection

of past and present, that i s t e c h n i c a l l y and t h e o r e t i c a l l y almost a

j u x t a p o s i t i o n .

In the r e l a t i o n s h i p of Justine and Nessim, D u r r e l l ' s m u l t i p l e -

mirror technique i s at i t s most i n t r i c a t e and e f f e c t i v e . We never do

pinpoint the essence of what i s between them, and cannot expect to,

since whatever i t i s i s dynamic. Darley*s f i r s t impression i s of "the

magnificent two-headed animal a marriage can be". ( J , p. 32) This

i d e n t i t y p e r s i s t s even when they are estranged; t h e i r moods and states

of mind are r e f l e c t i o n s of each other. No matter how many i n f i d e l i t i e s

both commit, they s t i l l seem well matched. It i s Justine who speaks of

51

prisra-sightedness, and she i s seen i n a prism, i n fragments of love

a f f a i r s which may or may not be sincere, i n fragments of p o l i t i c a l

i n t r i g u e , s o c i a l conversation and i n t e l l e c t u a l speculation. Her

appearance i s sometimes b e a u t i f u l , sometimes d e f i n i t e l y u nattractive

and even d u l l , a peasant with brown paws. Nessim too i s prismatic,

sometimes the charming but simple cuckold, sometimes the arch-deceiver,

omniscient, s i n i s t e r and pcLished. His r e l a t i o n s h i p s with h i s brother

and h i s land are s i m i l a r l y ambiguous. He i s strong and weak, b r i l l i a n t

and stupid.

When Nessim reveals h i s plans to her, Justine finds that

mirrors have been transcended. They are face to face, mind to mind,

and the only mirror they need i s one another. The surface Justine i s

"the Justine thrown back by polished mirrors, or engraved i n expensive

clothes and f a r d s " , and her body i s "a pleasure—seeker, a mirror—reference

to r e a l i t y " . (M, p. 201) But now she i s r e a l i t y i t s e l f , not merely a

mirror-reference of i t . Nessim's perception goes beyond the s u p e r f i c i a l i ­

t i e s . They use the m i r r o r - t r i c k s of d i s t o r t i o n and ambiguity, but

d e l i b e r a t e l y and i n the i n t e r e s t s of t h e i r cause.

At the star t of h i s a f f a i r with Justine, Darley thinks of

"Nessim's handsome face smiling at her from every mirror i n the room".

(J, p. 47) This mirror r e f l e c t s the t r u t h about her l i a i s o n s with both

men. Nessim watches her with Darley "as i f through the wrong end of an

enormous telescope; seeing our small f i g u r e s away on the skyline of h i s

own hopes and plans". ( J , p. 85) At the time he writes t h i s , Darley

i s unaware how much he i s involved i n Nessim's plan, or even that there

i s a plan. The telescope i s something l i k e the marvellous glass supposed

to have been atop the legendary lighthouse of Pharos at Alexandria.

52

Darley thinking of Nessim observing them seems to be heeding D u r r e l l ' s

"Cradle Song" advice to "watch the mirror watching you".

Balthazar's watch-key i s apparently stolen by e i t h e r Justine

or Nessim f o r any of several possible reasons connected with espionage

and/or jealousy. The key becomes a symbolic means to unlocking the

secret of one's various mirrors and hence of oneself. Balthazar says

he could not " f i n d the key to a r e l a t i o n s h i p which f a i l e d s i g n a l l y " ,

(B, p. 98) and he has f a i l e d , since the r e l a t i o n s h i p i n question has

not, a f t e r a l l , f a i l e d . Darley, questioning Nessim's motives i n loving

Melissa, asks, "Where does one hunt f o r the key to such a pattern?" (B,

p. 134) This love i s m i r r o r - l i k e too, Nessim with Darley's mistress

r e f l e c t i n g Darley with Nessim*s wife, a l l f o r ambiguous motives. When

Nessim does produce the l o s t key, he accompanies the act with wards

addressed to Justine i n the mirror and with a bold stare at h i s own

r e f l e c t i o n . ( J , pp. 174 - 175) This scene comes at a high point of

tension when p o l i t i c s and passion are at t h e i r c r i s e s , and when Nessim

i s experiencing a p e c u l i a r s e l f - a p p r a i s a l i n h i s concern over Justine

and over Narouz. Here occur h i s strange dreams of h i s c i t y ' s past.

Many kinds of r e f l e c t i o n s of h i s s e l f are t r y i n g to come to l i g h t at

once. He appears a "vulgar double of himself, a mirror r e f l e c t i n g

unexpected d i s t o r t i o n s " . In the Key D u r r e l l t a l k s of the theme of

the double i n l i t e r a t u r e as symptomatic of a s p l i t i n the psyche, (p.42)

This i s what he makes the metaphor mean f o r Nessim, h i s own double,

l i v i n g on several level's'at once. ( J , p. 240; M, p. 191) Mouhtolive's

r e a l i z a t i o n of t h e i r m u l t i l e v e l l i f e comes with an awareness that h i s

own f r i e n d s h i p f o r Nessim had prevented h i s seeing the t r u t h about him;

53

he i s forced by h i s p o s i t i o n to take a multiviewed look. The process

i s uncomfortable. The features of Nessim and Maskelyne are somehow

merged i n a " t r i c k of double exposure", another metaphor that sees

things several ways at once. He hates not Nessim but an "image" of

Nessim, one of the multiple views of the man. In t h i s confused state,

Mountolive sees an u n s e t t l i n g r e f l e c t i o n of himself; "Crossing the

h a l l he caught sight of h i s own face i n the great pi e r glass and was

surprised to notice that i t wore an expression of feeble petulance".

Feeble petulance i s the sorry attainment of h i s w i l l to a c t i o n .

Nessim too presents a problem of a c t i o n , but a d i f f e r e n t one.

He acts when he least appears to do so, and t h i s i s again suggested

by r e p e t i t i o n of phrase. A f t e r Capodistria's faked death and a f t e r

Toto's murder, Darley notices that Nessim wears the expression of

one r e s t i n g a f t e r a "great expenditure of energy". ( J , p. 205; B_,

pp. 12, 218) The reasons f o r the expression are not revealed u n t i l

Mountolive; they aie h i n t s of another view of Nessim. Darley has

u n i n t e n t i o n a l l y glanced i n a mirror he was not intended to see.

Reading Pursewarden*s l e t t e r s to h i s s i s t e r , Darley wonders,

" i f two or more explanations of a single human action are as good

as each other then what does action mean but an i l l u s i o n ? " (C, p. 176)

His query i s i l l u s t r a t e d immediately as he i s confronted by Keats,

who has read Pursewarden*s l e t t e r s to his wife and received an im­

pression opposite to Darley*s. To L i z a , Pursewarden i s a great genius

and a good man; to h i s wife, he i s despicable. The act i n question i s

his s u i c i d e , and there i s doubt as to whether i t i s an action at a l l .

It appears to be immediately motivated by Melissa's disclosure made while

54

"examining the c a v i t i e s i n her teeth with a hand mirror", a r e f l e c t i o n

of something repellent i n an a t t r a c t i v e face, as Nessim's crime i s i n

the context of h i s friendship with Pursewarden. (M, p. 177) In h i s

suicide l e t t e r to Mountolive, Pursewarden says h i s death " w i l l solve

other deeper problems too" (M, p. 184) and suggests there are other

views of h i s act. He denies i t i s an act, and t e l l s Mountolive, "You

must act where I cannot bring myself t o " . Is he r e f e r r i n g to the pro­

blem of Nessim or the problem of Liza? But to Mountolive, Pursewarden's

death i s an act, "the bare act of Pursewarden ( t h i s inconvenient plunge

into anonymity)", because i t i s k i n e t i c ; i t sets i n motion forces which

compel him too to a c t . (M, p. 186, D u r r e l l ' s i t a l i c s ) It i s Pursewarden's

" s o l i t a r y act of cowardice", (M, p. 214) a negative action on the part of

one who performs i t , but p o s i t i v e to others. It a l t e r s " a l l the d i s p o s i ­

t i o n s on the chessboard", A l i c e ' s chessboard jarred suddenly so a l l the

pieces have s h i f t e d t h e i r r e l a t i v e p o s i t i o n s . For Mountolive and Nessim,

t h i s ends the delusion of "a perfect f i n i t e a c t i o n , free and heedless

as the directed w i l l " . The action directed by Nessim's w i l l has been

crossed by the act of another w i l l and both are d i s t o r t e d beyond the point

where choice i s possi b l e , caught i n the flow of univ e r s a l forces from

the "time-spring of our acts". Nessim and Justine r e a l i z e t h i s i n the

mirror of each other, " t h e i r open eyes staring i n t o each other with the

sightlessness of inhuman objects, mirrors made of quartz, dead s t a r s " .

(M, p. 215) W i l l s are deadlocked and no longer potent. In Clea,

Balthazar announces to h i s mirror that "the most tender, the most t r a g i c

of i l l u s i o n s i s perhaps to believe that our actions can add or subtract

from the t o t a l q u a n t i t y of good and e v i l i n thw world". (C, p. 71) There

are so many mirror-views that there can be no " f i n i t e a ction", and there

i s always something beyond the scope of the w i l l .

Balthazar, commenting on Pursewarden and Justine, exclaims,

"imagine what one touch of r i d i c u l e can do to a Higher Emotion!" (B, p. 115)

In i t s immediate context, i t does a great deal. For Pursewarden, the

dark s i n i s t e r Venus Justine i s "a tiresome old sexual t u r n s t i l e through

which presumably we must a l l pass". (B, p. 115)

The mirror of the r i d i c u l o u s r e f l e c t s c o n tinually i n the person

of Scobie, a masterpiece of a comic character, who appears i n a l l four

books and seems to have l i t t l e to do with the story apart from his being

a sort of mascot to a l l the major characters. He i s i n fact a mirror

of every important theme i n the Quartet. His job i n the Secret Service

i s a f arce, but i t provides an e a r l y hint of Nessim's highly serious

subversion p l o t s . His "tendency" to dress as a l i t t l e old lady and

accost s a i l o r s i s a wild counterpart of other inverted loves, and h i s

struggle to control himself i s a struggle of the w i l l . He has only one

eye and has " l e f t l i t t l e pieces of h i s f l e s h a l l over the world", match­

ing the numerous mutilations and i l l n e s s e s i n the novel. His attempt

at a r t i s t i c creation i s a bathtub f u l l of a poisonous a l c o h o l i c brew.

F i n a l l y , he i s ageless, timeless, "older than the b i r t h of tragedy,

younger than the Athenian death". He i s part of the legendary past

and coeternal present, a "true subject of myth". ( J , pp. 122, 217)

Pursewarden, who often gives clues to D u r r e l l ' s i n t e n t i o n , creates a

character very l i k e Scobie to be a meeting place f o r various thoughts and

themes. Like Scobie, t h i s character i s to be a "sensualist T i r e s i a s " .

(M, pp. 164 - 165) Scobie*s r o l e as part of the inner l i v e s of others

i s shown i n the way h i s story i s t o l d , seldom at f i r s t hand, or even i n

56

the d i r e c t words of Darley, but us u a l l y by Darley quoting someone else

who i s i m i t a t i n g Scobie*s s t o r y t e l l i n g .

The comic mirror has i t s c h i l l i n g aspects, as manifested i n

the C a r n i v a l . Here are "the feared and beloved shapes and outlines of

frie n d s and f a m i l i a r s now d i s t o r t e d i n t o the semblance of clowns and

zanies". (B, pp. 192 - 193) This d i s t o r t i o n i s a deliberate e f f o r t to

make one's s e l f part of the r e f l e c t i o n i n a multiple-mirror. Everyone

dresses l i k e everyone e l s e , i n the black domino, "which shrouds i d e n t i t y

and sex, prevents one d i s t i n g u i s h i n g between man and woman, wife and lover,

f r i e n d and enemy". (B, p. 188) The multiple view cancels out i d e n t i t y .

The domino confers " u t t e r anonymity ... the disguise which each man i n

hi s secret heart desires above a l l ... a freedom which man has seldom

dared to imagine f o r himself'.' This disguise, t h i s freefdom, i s "from the

bondage of ourselves". (B, pp. 188 - 189), from whatever bothers one, when

one l i t e r a l l y and f i g u r a t i v e l y looks i n a mirror: "Only the black domino

of the c a r n i v a l b a l l s permitted him (Narouz) to disguise the face he

had come to loathe so much that he could no longer bear to see i t even

i n a mirror". (B, p. 94) 1 Paradoxically, t h i s renunciation of the s e l f

i s a plunge i n t o the deepest recesses of the s e l f , to the i d e n t i t y of the

race, since a l l have discarded t h e i r selves and found a r e f l e c t i o n of them­

selves i n every i d e n t i c a l f i g u r e . It i s as i f one had to cancel the type

lDiscussing the Freudian i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of dreams, D u r r e l l explains that "the unpleasant secrets which were i (all bricked up i n the unconscious elude the censor because they were got up i n p o e t i c a l fancy-dress, they were disguised". (Key, p. 52)

57

to reach the archetype. Jung describes such a process:

In order to discover the uniformity of the human psyche I must descend i n t o the very

' foundations of consciousness. Only there do I f i n d wherein a l l are a l i k e . 1

In order to f i n d oneself, one must l i t e r a l l y lose i t i n the complexity

of multiple mirrors. As Barley remarks, "I must learn to see even my­

s e l f i n a new context, a f t e r reading those cold cruel words of Balthazar".

(B, p. 47) The mask, the disguise, the merging i n a general anonymity

shows the s e l f r e f l e c t e d i n the disguised selves around, or provides another

s e l f to r e f l e c t the f i r s t . Justine i s h o r r i f i e d at the thought of not

having to act a part: "Then I shout! not know who I was". (M, pp. 232 -

233) Masked, l i t e r a l l y or not, one has no i d e n t i t y , or one has two

i d e n t i t i e s to c l a r i f y and q u a l i f y one another.

D u r r e l l has used the multiple mirror before. In the Black o

Book, as Harry T. Moore has pointed out, the characters are mirrored

"from one abrupt angle a f t e r another i n h i s e f f o r t to capture *the l o g i c

of p e r s o n a l i t i e s ... i n a l l i t s b e a u t i f u l mutations'". Here too the

m u l t i p l i c i t y comes from within the s e l f as well as from without; i t i s

possible to "both love and hate the same woman at the same time". (BB,

p. 176) The actor discovers that the " i d e n t i t y " of the anonymous audience

i s c o l l e c t i v e l y h i s own i d e n t i t y , "my own face i n i t s incessant r e d u p l i ­

cations" (BB, p. 223), multiple masks as i n Alexandria's c a r n i v a l . The

Dark Labyrinth also i s b u i l t on the multiple-view plan. No one character

knows the whole story, but each r e f l e c t s a p a r t i c u l a r angle of the " t r u t h " ,

and each uses i t as a means of discovering h i s s e l f .

p. 624.

'"Durrell's Black Book" i n World, p. 101

58

The hinged mirrors take various forms i n D u r r e l l ' s work and

are r e l a t e d to several other important categories of metaphor.

Groddeck*s book i s e n t i t l e d The World of Man, as r e f l e c t e d i n A r t ,

i n Words and i n Disease. "As r e f l e c t e d " - there i s the mirror again.

Clea t e l l s Darley, "There are only three things to be done with a woman

. . . You can love her, s u f f e r f o r her, or turn her i n t o l i t e r a t u r e " .

Darley*s problem i s that he i s "experiencing a f a i l u r e i n a l l these do­

mains of f e e l i n g " . (J_, p. 22) The mirrors then are art (including

" l i t e r a t u r e " ) , love and disease or s u f f e r i n g , to which D u r r e l l by

i m p l i c a t i o n adds landscape. In the Quartet, each of these motifs i s

e x p l i c i t l y an involvement of the s e l f with some r e a l i t y external to i t ,

whether that r e a l i t y takes the form of an act of communication, a

reaching towards another s e l f , an awareness of one's own body as an

object, or a reaction to the environment. They are "mirrors" i n that

they provide counterparts of i n t e r n a l r e a l i t y or clues to the t r u t h

about the s e l f . These v a r i a t i o n s of the mirror image w i l l be examined

i n the subsequent chapters.

59

CHAPTER II: The Mirror of Art

A. Art i n Alexandria

The Alexandria Quartet i s an a r t i s t i c representation of

a r t i s t s . Three major male characters, Darley, Pursewarden and Arnauti

are w r i t e r s , as i s Keats, who becomes s i g n i f i c a n t l a t e i n the story.

The heroine of the f i n a l volume, Clea, i s a painter. In connection

with a r t , the mirror symbolism functions i n various ways. A purpose

of a r t , as everyone knows, i s to r e f l e c t : "both at the f i r s t and now,

was and i s to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature". 1 D u r r e l l ,

as an a r t i s t whose art i s concerned with a r t i s t s , creates a mirror

to r e f l e c t h i s own theories. The a r t i s t - c h a r a c t e r s and t h e i r works

r e f l e c t each other and themselves and Alexandria; Justine i s r e f l e c t e d

i n the work of four a r t i s t s .

Art i n Alexandria i s a mirror of the Alexandrians. The a r t i s t i c

process leads to the a r t i s t ' s creation of h i s s e l f , as well as to a work

of a r t . In t h i s sense, the t e c h n i c a l l y non-artists are also a r t i s t s .

The creation of art i s a p o s i t i v e act, personally d i r e c t e d , and t h i s kind

of w i l l e d act i s the Alexandrian goal.

D u r r e l l qua D u r r e l l frequently discourses ex cathedra upon the

nature of a r t , and h i s characters discuss i t c o n t i n u a l l y . Moreover,

those whom he acknowledges as mentors - Groddeck, Rank, Henry M i l l e r -

have written extensively on the subject. From the mass of commentary i t

i s possible to d i s t i l l a theory of art which i s r e a l i z e d i n the Quartet and

Ham. I l l . i i .

60

which coincides with the present problem of the self-obsessed s e l f and

the w i l l to a c t i o n .

In the Black Book, D u r r e l l writes, i n i t a l i c s : "Books should

be b u i l t of one's t i s s u e or not at a l l . The struggle i s not to record

experience but to record oneself". (BB, p. 125) In the Key to Modern

Poetry he remarks on the increasing s u b j e c t i v i t y of a r t , spurred by the

obscurity of the subject-object r e l a t i o n s h i p i n the E i n s t e i n i a n world,

and finds that "the v i s i o n of the a r t i s t seems to be gradually turning

inwards upon himself". (Key, p. 22) Man can excape the bounds of the

four dimensions only i n h i s imagination or h i s unconscious, and only

thus "inhabit the whole" of a r e a l i t y indefinable by even great a r t .

" i f art has any message i t must be t h i s : to remind us that we are dying

without having properly l i v e d " . %Key, p. 5) The creative imagination,

while unable to completely express the One r e a l i t y of the unity of s e l f

and of space-time, can at least conceive of i t , i n d i c a t e that i t i s

there and that i t i s the r e a l i t y of l i f e .

Writing to Henry M i l l e r about the Black Book, D u r r e l l i n s i s t e d

that "the root of the struggle which on paper looks l i k e the struggle

to write i s r e a l l y the struggle to l i v e . A l l a r t i s t i c d i s l o c a t i o n s and

f a i l i n g s go r i g h t back to the author". (Cor, p. 99) The problem with the

Black Book i s that i t does look rather too much l i k e both these struggles.

It i s a product of the artist-adolescent working o f f both types of problems,

and written while the process was s t i l l going on; t h i s was not the mature

a r t i s t painting a p o r t r a i t of h i s young s e l f . Therefore, D u r r e l l apolo­

gizes on rereading, "Let me k i l l the ' a r t i s t ' i n me and the man w i l l

appear - i f there i s a man". M i l l e r had advised him: "You are a writer -

at present, almost too much of a one. You need only to become more and

61

more yourself, i n l i f e and on paper (Cor, p. 98) The Quartet i s

p a r t l y a d e s c r i p t i o n of t h i s process, but not, as the Black Book i s ,

an example of i t . M i l l e r repeated h i s idea i n Art and Outrage, t h i s

time applying i t to himself:

My i n t e n t i o n was there - as I s a i d , merely to w rite. Or, to be a w r i t e r , more j u s t l y . Well, I've been i t . Now I just want to be.

(A&O, p. 32) The highest art i s the art of l i v i n g ... w r i t i n g i s but a prelude or form of i n i t i a t i o n f o r t h i s purpose.

(A&O, p. 40)

As D u r r e l l r e a l i z e d about the Black Book, the a r t i s t who i s

concerned only with the machinations of h i s own mentality i s l i k e l y to

produce i n f e r i o r a r t . He sees the tendency of modern l i t e r a t u r e as a

curve inward through Lawrence, Joyce and probably M i l l e r , and then a

l i t t l e more outward, "away from autobiographical form. The a r t i s t must

become aware of the necessity to transcend p e r s o n a l i t y " . (Key, pp. 66, 87)

This does not mean the a r t i s t i s to exclude h i s own personality from the

subject of h i s a r t , but include i t and pass beyond i t . Campion, the a r t i s t

of The Dark Labyrinth, defines "the a r t i s t ' s job" as the presentation of

"concrete f i n d i n g s about the unknown inside himself and other people". (DLj

p. 152, 153) He i s not imprisoned i n h i s s e l f , but reaches outward to other

The t r i p l e authorship of Art and Outrage - D u r r e l l and A l f r e d Perles w r i t i n g about M i l l e r , and M i l l e r r e p l ying - leads to a mixing of mirror metaphors. D u r r e l l c a l l s f o r "a p o r t r a i t -not of the man, f o r you have done that already - but of the a r t i s t , mirrored i n h i s work", (p. 8) Four pages l a t e r , Perles claims to have "portrayed the man and scamped h i s work, hoping the man would mirror h i s work", (p. 12) Perles admits h i s hope f a i l e d ; p o s s i b l y D u r r e l l ' s succeeds.

62

selves. The " r e a l a r t i s t " i s "a suf f e r i n g member of the world".

B, Art and A r t i s t and Alexandria

It i s obvious from the reading of the Quartet, without recourse

to h i s c r i t i c a l statements, that D u r r e l l i s continually aware of the a r t i s ­

t i c i mplications of psychoanalytic t h e o r i e s . Proofs are Justine's i n t e r ­

view with Freud, the archetypal images at Car n i v a l , the r e b i r t h by water

i n Clea. He has admitted to an i n t e r e s t i n Otto Rank's Art and A r t i s t .

(Key, Chapter 4, e s p e c i a l l y p. 88; A&O, p. 16) The picture of the a r t i s t

as i t emerges i n the Quartet, e s p e c i a l l y i n Clea, i s close to Rank's

picture. I have suggested that D u r r e l l ' s diagram of the a r t i s t ' s l i f e would

be a curve inward, then outward. Rank begins by placing the o r i g i n of

the human creative junpulsse i n the need to harmonize the "fundamental

dualism of a l l l i f e " , the dualism of i n d i v i d u a l and collective, personal

and s o c i a l , inner and ou t e r . 1 This harmonizing takes the form of a

freeing of the a r t i s t ' s s e l f from dependence and thus of creating oneself.

(A, preface, x x i i i ) and the ce n t r a l problem i n the formation of the s e l f

i s the problem of w i l l i n g (A, p. 9)

The r e l a t i o n of art and s e l f originated i n the p r i m i t i v e a r t i s t ' s

e f f o r t to present "the idea of the soul i n concrete form. The concrete

form which he gave to the soul was the shape of a god. (A_, p. 13) So

when Pursewarden t a l k s about the a r t i s t wanting to be God, he may be

r e f e r r i n g to the attempt to present the essence of the idea of the soul

i n the most perfect form p o s s i b l e . The word "genius", from "gignere", to

Rank, p. 13. For t h i s chapter only, references w i l l be given i n my tex t , with the t i t l e abbreviated as A_

63

beget, designates o r i g i n a l l y a part of the soul which can o r i g i n a t e

what i s immortal, whether c h i l d or work of a r t . (A, pp. 19 - 2 0 ) 1

The a r t i s t , l i k e the neurotic, i s self-obsessed, but the

a r t i s t accepts the s e l f and proceeds to i t s g l o r i f i c a t i o n , (p. 27)

The a r t i s t ' s f i r s t creation i s himself, "the selfmaking of the p e r s o n a l i t y

i n t o the a r t i s t " . Subsequent creat ions express and j u s t i f y t h i s aim.

(A, p. 28)

The l i f e - i m p u l s e , the urge to unite the p o l a r i t i e s of r e a l i t y ,

i n the creative p e r s o n a l i t y becomes the servant of the w i l l . When Clea

i s able to w i l l and to control her own actions she i s able also to

create. The creative s e l f which remains bound within i t s e l f , not sub­

jected to the w i l l , i s a neurotic s e l f , halted i n the process of breaking

down the p e r s o n a l i t y and unable to b u i l d i t up again. (A, pp. 39 - 41)

The dilemma f o r Rank's a r t i s t i s that i n order to make art our

of l i f e , he must s a c r i f i c e l i f e . ( A , p. 48) Instead of simply expressing,

he takes the experience i n t o himself, reshapes and recreates i t , and

sends f o r t h something new, a creation. The modern author, i n contrast

-"-The Alexandrian Children are worth a passing glance. There are the c h i l d r e n of Justine, Melissa, Cohen, L i z a , Mountolive, Clea; the c h i l d p r o s t i t u t e s , the dead c h i l d i n the box. Most of them are g i r l s . D u r r e l l ' s poems "For a Nursery Mirror" (B_, p. 15) and "Cradle Song" (p. 16) deal with mirrors and images, the "Nonself and the S e l f " . Compare Groddeck's emphasis on the bond between mother and c h i l d a f t e r b i r t h (p. 145), and h i s theory of man's double-age, the child-adult (p. 135) and the immense age of the newborn (p. 208). Compare also the t r a n s l a t o r of June: "One might attempt to formulate the chief aim of the i n d i v i d u a l as the e f f o r t to create out of oneself the most s i g n i ­f i c a n t product of which one i s capable. On the b i o l o g i c a l l e v e l t h i s i s c l e a r l y the c h i l d ... Hence the budding personality with i t s p o t e n t i a l i t i e s f o r good or i l l i s frequently represented i n dreams i n the form of a c h i l d " , (p. xx)

64

to the " c o l l e c t i v e creators of f o l k epic" makes himself the " r e a l hero

of h i s story". (A, p. 81) Because of the s a c r i f i c e he must make, the

a r t i s t s u f f e r s from "fear of L i f e " . Fear i s unreal, nebulous and un­

caused, as i s the r e l i g i o u s f e e l i n g . The love-experience i s r e a l . Art

i s midway, " r e a l i s i n g the unreal and rendering i t concrete", seeking "to

prove by o b j e c t i f i c a t i o n the emotional r e a l i t y of what has never been

r e a l and can never be made r e a l " . (A, pp. 103 - 104) This i s what

D u r r e l l ' s Alexandrians do with t h e i r selected f i c t i o n s . By creating,

making something from nothing, the a r t i s t at least attempts to assert

h i s independence of that which e x i s t s . (A_, p. 240) He has w i l l e d and

h i s w i l l has produced something; he i s no longer bound by the determining

forces of l i f e . The making of a work of art i s i t s e l f an act. (A, p. 207)

The a r t i s t has done something and has something to show f o r h i s e f f o r t s .

The successful a r t i s t achieves a j u x t a p o s i t i o n of inner and

outer, of i n d i v i d u a l and c o l l e c t i v e , i h short, a unity;

The highest type of a r t i s t i s he who can use the t y p i c a l c o n f l i c t of humanity within himself to produce c o l l e c t i v e values, which, though akin to the t r a d i t i o n a l i n form and content - because i n p r i n c i p l e they spring from the same c o n f l i c t - are yet i n d i v i d u a l and new creations of the c o l l e c t i v e values, i n that they present the personal ideology of the a r t i s t who i s the representative of h i s age. (A, p. 362)

In successful a r t , the d u a l i t i e s of inner and outer experience are well

blended. Art i s "not a means of l i v e l i h o o d , but l i f e i t s e l f " ' , (A_, p. 371).

This complex blend i s also the mark of a successful l i f e . The a r t i s t ab­

sorbs the world within himself and then throws h i s cosmic i d e n t i t y outward,

again to save h i s i n d i v i d u a l , non-cosmic i d e n t i t y . (A, p. 377)

Modern art i s i n danger from an overly " s c i e n t i f i c " a n a l y t i c

65

a t t i t u d e . The aim i s "hot to express himself i n h i s work, but to get

to know himself by i t " . But as he succeeds i n h i s aim, he becomes

unable to create, since presumably then there i s no more need f o r h i s

creation, and also because i l l u s i o n s are necessary f o r art as they are

for l i f e . S i m i l a r l y , once one knows oneself, there i s no need to con­

tinue l i v i n g - i f knowing oneself i s one's main purpose. This view i s

neglecting the outer h a l f of the dualism. Rank poses as an a r t i s t who

w i l l renounce a r t , which has usurped the place of r e a l experience i n

h i s l i f e , a n d devote h i s creative energy to the formation of pe r s o n a l i t y ,

thus, apparently, p r e c i p i t a t i n g the milennium by eliminating art (A,

pp. 430 - 431). 1

D u r r e l l ' s a r t i s t , Pursewarden, says that "the object of w r i t i n g

i s to grow a pe r s o n a l i t y which i n the end enables man to transcend a r t " .

(B, p. 141) This i s e s s e n t i a l l y what Rank says. Again, Pursewarden

d e l i b e r a t e l y plans a " l a s t " book and writes to Clea about " t h i s new

creature we a r t i s t s are hunting f o r " . His l i f e and h i s art are "two

problemsvhich interconnect", but they are proceeding i n opposite d i r e c ­

t i o n s :

"Now i n my l i f e I am somewhat i r r e s o l u t e and shabby, but i n my art I am free to be what I most desire to seem - someone who might bring r e s o l u t i o n and harmony i n t o the dying l i v e s around me". (B_, p. 239)

This i s c e r t a i n l y not art f o r a r t ' s sake. Pursewarden uses Rank's word

"harmony". Once t h i s harmony i s achieved, there i s no more need f o r the

!"0nce you f u l l y understand a work of art you no longer have any need of i t " . D u r r e l l , Key, p. 39.

66

means by which i t was achieved:

" i n my a r t , indeed, through my a r t , I want r e a l l y to achieve myself shedding the work, which i s of no importance, as a snake sheds

i t s s k i n". (B_, p. 239, D u r r e l l ' s i t a l i c s )

Conversely, i f one wishes to become only an a r t i s t , one sheds l i f e ,

"the whole complex of egotisms which led to the choice of self-expression

as the only means of growth". (C, p. 128) Pursewarden r e j e c t s t h i s

as impossible. He t e l l s Clea that the a r t i s t ' s obstacle i s himself,

"mirror-worship". Appropriately, both a r t i s t s are looking i n t o mirrors

during t h i s conversation. Creation should be "fun, joy", he says, and

the ego should not be allowed to turn t h i s to misery. (C, p. 110) Clea

knows from her own experience during her lesbian episode that the a r t i s t

obsessed with personal anguish may be unable to create. Pursewarden's

theory suggests that the purpose of art i s to achieve a harmony of r e a l i t y ,

at which point the a r t i s t transcends art and re-enters the realm of exper­

ience. The a r t i s t i c process i t s e l f involves another transcendence, that

of the s e l f , i n t r o s p e c t i o n completed turning outward towards other selves.

Rank seems to want to have h i s art and transcend i t too. The

d i f f i c u l t y , and Pursewarden's d i f f i c u l t y , i s the r e l a t i o n between art

and l i f e . Are they substitutes f o r each other, or complements? Does

the a r t i s t have a s e l f apart from h i s art? Or, as a creator, i s he non-

human? Rank's modern a r t i s t i s i n trouble, because his art i s turned

completely inward. He i s g u i l t - r i d d e n f o r vaguely defined reasons, most

of which appear to suggest a deliberate renunciation of h i s c o l l e c t i v e

humanity. He has usurped the r o l e of creator. He has made a cowardly

escape from the necessity for experiencing and hence from the "f e a r of

l i f e " . If he can achieve a r t i s t i c immortality, he does not need to fear

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l i f e and the i m p l i c a t i o n of death: "He becomes non-human i n that the

impulse to create i s the i n s t i g a t i n g f a c t o r , rather than the impulse

to love or even to l i v e " . (A, p. 371) Wyndham Lewis speaks of the

"magical q u a l i t y i n a r t i s t i c expression". The a r t i s t i s "tapping

the supernatural sources and p o t e n t i a l i t i e s of our existence ... tamper­

ing, i n a secular manner, with sacred powers". 1 The a r t i s t i s as g u i l t y

as Faust, who t r a d i t i o n a l l y loses h i s mirror image when he s e l l s h i s

soul, having adopted a d i s t o r t e d view of himself and h i s place i n the

Chain of Being. This g u i l t can no longer as i n e a r l i e r ages work i t s e l f

out c r e a t i v e l y through "the counter-force of r e l i g i o u s submissiveness",

and f e s t e r s on l i m i t i n g the completion of both art and p e r s o n a l i t y (A,

p. 425) The modern a r t i s t does not want to admit t h i s , and so he i n s i s t s

that art i s "wholly true to l i f e " . Thus, h i s withdrawal from l i f e i n t o

art i s legitimate, i f art and l i f e can replace each other.

The great a r t i s t can free himself from the paralysing " p a r a l l e l ­

ism between h i s l i f e and work". His art i s an object, whose non-identity

with the subject i s apparent. The l e s s e r a r t i s t - f o r Rank, t h i s i s the

Romantic contrasted with the superior C l a s s i c a l writer - puts h i s s e l f ,

the subject i n t o the object, and concentrates on that image. In D u r r e l l -

ian terms, h i s art i s a mirror of himself alone. Since t h i s i s a f a l s e

p o s i t i o n , he has brought about the s p l i t i n psyche which bothers the

Alexandrians.

The a r t i s t does f i n d h i s s e l f i n the process of h i s work, but

he does not confuse the two. D u r r e l l ' s Keats says that the very task of

Time and Western Man, p. 193

68

a r t , "the act of wrestling with an insoluble problem grows the writer

up'c. (C_, p. 184) This i s what happens to Keats and to Darley and Clea,

who are the a r t i s t s of the future. It does not happen to Pursewarden;

although Keats says Pursewarden r e a l i z e s t h i s , he does not "grow up".

His s e l f i s i n fragments and, knowing he cannot escape experience i n

ar t , he escapes i n su i c i d e . His i s the dilemma of Rank's a r t i s t of

the present.

In another sense, art and experience and s e l f are connected.

Rank traces the h i s t o r y of art to p r i m i t i v e r e l i g i o n ' s expression of

the soul idea, and the motto f o r the a r t i s t i s a r e l i g i o u s one - he i s

to lose h i s l i f e i n order to f i n d i t :

The s e l f - r e n u n c i a t i o n which the a r t i s t f e e l s when creating i s r e l i e v e d when he fi n d s himself again i n h i s accomplished work, and the sel f - r e n u n c i a t i o n which r a i s e s the enjoyer above the l i m i t a t i o n s of his i n d i v i d u a l i t y becomes, though, not i d e n t i f i c a t i o n but the f e e l i n g of oneness with the soul l i v i n g i n the work of a r t , a greater and higher e n t i t y .... They ( i . e . a r t i s t s ) have yielded up t h e i r mortal ego f o r a moment, f e a r l e s s l y and even j o y f u l l y , to receive i t back i n the next, the r i c h e r f o r t h i s u n i v e r s a l f e e l i n g . (A_, pp. 109 - 110; Rank's i t a l i c s )

So Clea loses her "horror' r, her fear of l i f e , and i s able to paint.

And " j o y f u l l y ' " i s the precise adverb f o r Darley's d e s c r i p t i o n of h i s

a r t i s t i c "coming of age":

I wrote: 'Once upon a time ...' And I f e l t as i f the whole universe

had given me a nudge! (C , p. 282)

The r f e e l i n g of oneness" r e s u l t s from the r e s o l u t i o n of the

d u a l i t i e s of inner and outer i n the con t r o l l e d creation of a r e l a t i o n s h i p

between subject and object, art and a r t i s t . The four words which begin a

story are united with the four l e t t e r s and four faces of the modern love

which the Quartet set out to in v e s t i g a t e . They unite the writer with the

past of h i s species, with "every s t o r y - t e l l e r since the world began",

and with the men who l i s t e n to them. "Once upon a time" i s a temporal

statement expressed i n s p a t i a l terms. The a r t i s t f i nds himself as both

a r t i s t and man, "quite serene and happy, a r e a l human being, an a r t i s t

at l a s t " . (C_, p. 281)

Gerald Sykes has charted the form of the Quartet as a progression

culminating ±1 the problem of the a r t i s t :

As Justine had symbolized (Darley*s) education through passion, Balthazar through detachment, Mountolive through h i s t o r y , Clea now leads him to the most important phase of h i s career, f o r which a l l the rest was preparation, the prac t i c e of h i s own a r t . 1

This i s a f a i r enough cataloguing. D u r r e l l has c a l l e d Clea a "mime

about r e b i r t h on the parable plane". 2 Darley*s r e v i v i n g of the nearly

drowned Clea symbolizes the love-act and also the "break-through to

poetic i l l u m i n a t i o n " . "The achievement of 'artisthood' i s connected with

sex and knowing", a r e a l i z a t i o n of oneself i n r e l a t i o n to another, and a

r e a l i z a t i o n of the d i r e c t i o n one must take to be able to create. Sex,

l i k e a r t , i s a human r e f l e c t i o n of cosmic creation. Since i t i s her

lover who revives her, Clea i s not only reborn but reconceived, as a r t i s t

and woman. Clea and Darley " r e f l e c t back the bisexual nature of the psyche"

and "discover the fulcrum i n themselves to be outside the possession of each

other, but i n the domain of self-possession."

Self-possession i s the opposite of self-obsession; i t i s putting

one's s e l f i n i t s proper place i n r e l a t i o n to a whole, and i s perhaps the

"One Vote f o r the Sun"', World, p. 150

t e l l e r Tape, World, pp. 166-167

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"self-renunciation" 7 which leads Rank's a r t i s t to a f e e l i n g of oneness.

In presenting the achievement of artisthood i n terms of love r e l a t i o n s h i p ,

D u r r e l l i s t r y i n g to, say " that l i f e i s r e a l l y an a r t i s t i c problem, a l l

men being sleeping a r t i s t s " . 1 Clea awakes and solves her a r t i s t i c pro­

blem. This amounts almost to an i d e n t i f i c a t i o n of art and l i f e .

Groddeck makes some useful and relevant distinctions. The " L i f e "

which appears i n art i s not equivalent to s e l f i n any narrow sense, but

i s the wholeness, the oneness, the r e c o n c i l i a t i o n of d u a l i t i e s , and i s

"always symbolic of the human t r i n i t y - male, female, c h i l d - though

the t r i n i t y may be shown incarnate i n a single f i g u r e " . 2 So Darley

and Clea are the bisexual psyche i n the act of creation. Oneness

through s e l f - r e n u n c i a t i o n i s the e s s e n t i a l a r t i s t i c c r i t e r i o n : "The sole

foundation of art i s t h i s power of l o s i n g one's separateness, of f e e l i n g

oneself at the same time a whole and yet a part of something better." This

paradox could apply to the process described by Rank, i n which the a r t i s t

achieves and transcends himself and then achieves and transcends h i s

a r t . Like Rank, Groddeck denies that art can be concerned s o l e l y with

the a r t i s t : ,rNo man can be an a r t i s t f o r a l l time whose concern i s

with the human soul" 7. Such a one "tears out a part of the t r u t h from

the web and presents i t to us as the whole"'.3 This detachment of man

from h i s background and context i s for Groddeck the p e c u l i a r disease

l-Kneller Tape, World, p. 167

2Groddeck, p. 122.

3Groddeck, pp. 51 - 54.

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of modern, post-renaissance Europe. The whole i s not only the whole

man but the whole universe, macrocosm as well as microcosm. Groddeck*s

example of an a r t i s t achieving the u n i v e r s a l oneness i s Leonardo. Be­

cause of h i s landscapes, p a i n t i n g , unlike the other a r t s , "could never

give i t s e l f up e n t i r e l y to the e x a l t a t i o n and adoration of man*s

i n d i v i d u a l q u a l i t i e s , could never again become wholly psychological".

In the work of Leonardo and Rembrandt, Groddeck f i n d s a reverence f o r

a l l of nature and a r e a l i z a t i o n "that they are part of the universe

and at one with i t " . 1 It i s Clea, the painter, who f i n d s the "secret

landscape" of art before Darley, the w r i t e r , and i t i s because she i s

"reborn" that he - too i s reborn as an a r t i s t .

D u r r e l l * s poetry has been c a l l e d the "record of a constructive

it 2

mind working out a program f o r the ego i n l i t e r a r y terms . In the

Alexandria Quartet t h i s program i s worked out and exemplified, with

ego and l i t e r a t u r e i n t h e i r context.

It would appear that art should not be too l i t e r a l l y a mirror

of l i f e , at least not of immediate experience or of l i f e now. But i f

the mirror o b j e c t i f i e s the subject rather than merely du p l i c a t i n g i t ,

then art as seen by D u r r e l l and h i s psychoanalytic c r i t i c s i s a mirror.

Mirrors, moreover, always r e f l e c t the background as well as the subject,

that i s , they put the r e f l e c t e d s e l f i n the context of a whole.

P h i l i p Sherrard, discussing C.P. Cavafy, remarks that " i t i s i n

t h i s r e b i r t h of past experience that the meaning of experience i t s e l f

would seem to l i e ; i t i s i n thejpoem d i s t i l l e d years a f t e r the p h y s i c a l

Groddeck, p. 68.

!Hayden Carruth, "Nougat f o r the Old B i t c h , " World, p. 125

72

event that the event i t s e l f i s f u l f i l l e d " . Clea's parable of r e b i r t h

gives meaning and wholeness to the events i n the f i r s t three-quarters

of the t e t r a l o g y . But even i n Justine, Darley had known, without r e a l i ­

zing the implications of the idea, that "only there i n the silences of

the painter or the writer can r e a l i t y be reordered, reworked and made

to show i t s s i g n i f i c a n t side". ( J , p. 17) It i s the " s i l e n c e s "

because the impulse to create and the "previous image" come to the

a r t i s t who i s waiting and receptive. In t h i s reordering of r e a l i t y ,

which i s emotion r e c o l l e c t e d i n t r a n q u i l l i t y , the pain of l i f e becomes

a r t . (£, p. 17)

Some of these ideas appear i n the work of an older n o v e l i s t ,

Charles Morgan, whom D u r r e l l once placed i n a l i s t of l i t e r a r y notables

which included Shaw and Huxley. (Cor, p. 76) In h i s preface to the

The World of Man, Groddeck's t r a n s l a t o r quotes Morgan's d e s c r i p t i o n

of the conception of a work of a r t :

In each case, h i s (the a r t i s t ' s ) joy of i t , o r d i n a r i l y c a l l e d c r e a t i v e , i s a receptive joy; there i s a close analogy i n the feminine art of love, which i s at once f i e r c e and peaceful, a f u l f i l l m e n t and an i n i t i a t i o n . The making of the work of art - the harvesting of the o r i g i n a l t r u t h - i s a l e s s intense experience than the conceiving of i t , f o r i n the moment of conception, and perhaps at no other time, the a r t i s t f u l l y apprehends h i s gods and sees with t h e i r eyestheir r e a l i t y . This power to be impregnated, and not the writing of poems, the painting of p i c t u r e s , or the composition of music, i s the essence of a r t , the being an a r t i s t . 3

J-The Marble Threshing-Floor (London, 1956), p.. 121

2 D a r l e y says i t i s r e a l i t y which reworks us, not the other way around. (C, p. 12)

3 P o r t r a i t i n a Mirror (London, 1929), p. 44; Groddeck, p. 32

73

This quotation could be an abstraction of Darley*s and Clea's " r e ­

b i r t h " or "reconception". There i s also Pursewarden's notion of the

a r t i s t a t t a i n i n g the l e v e l of the gods. And the whole a i r of p a s s i v i t y

and receptiveness suggests the f i n a l chapter of Clea where the p a t i e n t l y

waiting a r t i s t at least receives the "secret landscape", the "precious

image". (C_, p. 282)

In R e f l e c t i o n s , an appropriately t i t l e d c o l l e c t i o n of essays,

Morgan sees art as a mirror which enables man "to perceive himself as

a part of Nature and perhaps, to recognize a god i n himself . Here

again are the concepts of oneness and of the a r t i s t as god. The a r t i s t

i n P o r t r a i t i n a Mirror experiences a moment of epiphany when he f e e l s

himself "absorbed i n the open vastness of the universe about me"; t h i s

i s accompanied by the awakening of "the courage to create", and the

whole sensation i s connected with r e b i r t h and creation i n nature as he

i s " i d e n t i f i e d with that day of sap and r e s u r r e c t i o n " . 2

The t i t l e P o r t r a i t i n a Mirror i s relevant to t h i s d iscussion. In

an observation which Morgan also uses aa a t i t l e - p a g e epigraph, N i g e l ,

the protagonist, says, " i t was i n my mind to say that a p o r t r a i t should

be the image of one s p i r i t received i n the mirror of another". His

p o r t r a i t of Clare shows her as she i s seen by him. He considers an

i n t e r e s t i n g r e f l e c t i o n problem, painting a rose as i t i s r e f l e c t e d not

i n an actual mirror but i n the glossy whiteness of a t a b l e c l o t h . The

d i f f i c u l t y i s that the r e f l e c t i n g surface has q u a l i t i e s of i t s own which

must be conveyed: "For here i t was necessary while borrowing colour

from the r e f l e c t e d flower, to preserve the opaque whiteness of the

^'Creative Imagination" i n Reflections i n a Mirror, Second Series (London, 1954), pp. 96 - 97.

2 P o r t r a i t , pp. 151 - 152.

74

r e f l e c t i n g surface and to suggest beneath the s t i f f gloss, the texture

and p l i a b i l i t y of l i n e n " . 1 This i s a problem D u r r e l l has had to solve

i n h i s method. When people and events and landscapes r e f l e c t people

and events and landscapes, a l l e n t i t i e s , r e f l e c t e d or r e f l e c t i n g , or

both, must contain, i n addition to the image of the other, a " r e a l -

ness" of t h e i r own.

Morgan's works contain various mirror t r i c k s . J u l i e i n The Fountain,

waiting for her lover, recognizes i n the mirror her s e l f and, telescop­

ing time, i t i s the s e l f of past as well as present: "'It i s I, who

wondered so often what would become of me".2 Mary T e r r i f o r d i n the

play The Burning Glass sees i n a mirror the r e f l e c t i o n of another

character poisoning himself, and she does not i n t e r f e r e because he

i s f r e e to w i l l and act on h i s own.3

C. The A r t i s t as a Mirror of Society

The r o l e of the a r t i s t i n r e l a t i o n to other human beings i s ,

i n Pursewarden*s view, almost e n t i r e l y the r o l e of a mirror:

'Aware of every discord, of every calamity i n the nature of man himself, he can do nothing

to warn h i s f r i e n d s , to point, to cry out i n time and to t r y to save them. Ifc would be useless. For they are the deliberate f a c t o r s of t h e i r own unhapiness. A l l the a r t i s t can say as an imperative i s "Reflect and weep'. (B_, p. 141)

This extreme awareness of multiple facets of l i f e , coupled with the

i n a b i l i t y to do anything about what he perceives, i s Pursewarden's

1 P o r t r a i t , pp. 3, 87 - 88; p. 80.

2(New York, 1933), p. 247.

3Henry Charles D u f f i n . The Novels and Plays of Charles Morgan (London, 1959), p. 149.

anguish i n h i s involvement with Nessim and Mountolive and i s at

least part of the reason f o r h i s s u i c i d e . The mirror i s unable to

bear the weight of i t s r e f l e c t i o n s . He uses the word " r e f l e c t " i n

i t s other sense i n the imperative, i n an attempt to tr a n s f e r the

burden of the " r e f l e c t i o n " from the m i r r o r - a r t i s t to the mirrored s e l f .

What has been r e f l e c t e d i s a perverted use of free w i l l by those who

are the "deli b e r a t e f a c t o r s of t h e i r own unhappiness". He resorts

to the i n s e r t i o n of a blank page of h i s book i n order to throw the

reader "back upon h i s own resources", presumably with regard to h i s

own action as well as to the reader's i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of the book.

(B_, p. 143) D u r r e l l has written that "poetry by an asso c i a t i v e app­

roach transcends i t s own syntax i n order not to describe but to be

the cause of apprehension i n others"."1" Poetry i s l i k e Morgan's t a b l e ­

c l o t h , r e f l e c t i n g r e a l i t y , but at the same time r e t a i n i n g a d e f i n i t e

character and being of i t s own which demand active reaction from the

reader. Pursewarden t e l l s Clea that a l l r e a l reading and writing i s

done "between the l i n e s " , and t h i s i s probably what D u r r e l l means by

"an a s s o c i a t i v e approach" and by poetry's transcendence of i t s own

syntax. The poetry means more than, i t s words, and part of that

meaning can be found only i f the reader " r e f l e c t s " within himself.

The l a t e r Darley defines a r t i s t s as "an uninterrupted chain of humans

born to explore the inward riches of the s o l i t a r y l i f e on behalf of the

unheeding unforgiving community". (C_, p. 177) In t h i s passage he i s

t a l k i n g about time and the " h e r a l d i c universe'" (of which more l a t e r ) .

The a r t i s t r e f l e c t s f o r the reader h i s s e l f and also the c o l l e c t i v e

l i n Personal Landscape, quoted by Derek Stanford i n "Lawrence D u r r e l l : an Ea r l y View of h i s Poetry" i n World, p. 39

76

s e l f of h i s society. Darley's audience, l i k e Pursewarden's i s "un­

heeding unforgiving", unappreciative of the service done them by the

a r t i s t i n sparing them the anguish of being the f i r s t to explore the

depths of t h e i r solitude and i n showing the solitude to be part of a

non-solitude, a timeless oneness.

D u r r e l l ' s reader i s d e f i n i t e l y involved. It i s h i s own s e l f and

non-action he has been i n v e s t i g a t i n g , and the problem of a r t i s t i c

c r e a t i v i t y i s s u r p r i s i n g l y h i s problem, since a l l men are sleeping

a r t i s t s . "To awaken not merely the impulses of the forebrain with

i t s l i m i t e d formulations, but the sleeping beauty underneath - the

poetic consciousness which lay c o i l e d l i k e a spring, i n the heart of

everyone". (M, p. 231) This i s Narouz's purpose. The inner world

with which he deals goes deeper than N e s s i m ' s ' p o l i t i c a l chessboard".

To awaken that poetic consciousness i s also "to inflame the sleeping

w i l l " . The a r t i s t i s to awaken that part of the reader which he, as

a r t i s t , r e f l e c t s : the impulse to creative a c t i o n . Pursewarden i n ­

s i s t e d that " i t i s only the a r t i s t who can make things r e a l l y happen".

(M, p. 216) Nessim r e c a l l s these words when he and Mountolive are

deadlocked and a c t i o n l e s s on the p o l i t i c a l chessboard, while even i n

death Pursewarden i s making things happen, i s f o r c i n g them i n t o

po s i t i o n s i n which things must happen to them.

When he proposed to Justine, asking her to share the "monomania"

which i n s p i r e d h i s l i f e , Nessim had himself resembled an a r t i s t . (M,

p. 198) At that time, he could w i l l and act, and was i n fact s e t t i n g

forces i n motion.

Pursewarden asserts the a r t i s t as the hope of the world. Men

must w i l l , act, f u l f i l l t h e i r p o t e n t i a l selves, l i v e : "'Heed me,

77

reader, f o r the a r t i s t i s you, a l l of us - the statue which must d i s ­

engage i t s e l f from the d u l l block of marble which houses i t and start

to l i v e 1 " . (C_, p. 119) The block of marble disengages i t s e l f , and the

a r t i s t i n man must create himself i n w i l l e d and potent a c t i o n . People

then w i l l f i n d "the unborn c h i l d i n themselves, the infant Joy!" (C,

p. 140) Pombal and Darley mourn the f a l l of France as a " f a i l u r e of

the human w i l l " , but they believe France w i l l continue to l i v e "so

long as a r t i s t s were being born i n t o the world", (C, p; 36) because

art i s a success of the human w i l l .

The p s y c h i a t r i s t Hogarth i n The Dark Labyrinth sees art as "a

dangerous thing to play with, since i t demand self-examination and

self-knowledge, and many people do not r e a l l y wish f o r eith e r " : (DL,

p. 45) Art forces i t s audience to ac t i v e p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n a r t , and

the f i r s t subject of t h e i r art i s themselves. When Campion destroys

h i s p o r t r a i t of her, Mrs. Truman f e e l s that he i s refusing "to l e t her

learn about h e r s e l f " , (p. 157) The question "how do a r t i s t s happen?"

occurs to her as she looks i n the mirror; i t i s as i f the work of art

corresponded with her need to become both art and a r t i s t . The a r t i s t

creates not only h i s s e l f , but h i s world also; inner and outer are to

r e f l e c t the t r u t h i n each other. Frank Kermode suggests that the

Quartet o f f e r s "an a l t e r n a t i v e nature with another p h y s i c s " 1 Purse­

warden's plan f o r the"four-card t r i c k " novel i s to show the per s o n a l i t y

"across a continuum" so i t becomes "prismatic", (C, p. 136), thus r a i s ­

ing questions of c a u s a l i t y and indeterminacy.

In the Key to Modern Poetry, D u r r e l l o f f e r s poetry as "one d i a l e c t

Frank Kermode, Puzzles and Epiphanies (London, 1963), p. 223.

78

of a greater language comprising the whole universe of ideas", (p. xi)

Art i s one way of t a l k i n g about the s e l f and w i l l and actio n , but i t

i s not the only way.

79

CHAPTER I I I : The Mirror of Love

A. The Language of Love

"An i n v e s t i g a t i o n of modern love" - t h i s , D u r r e l l claims, i s the

centr a l t o p i c of the Ale xandria Quart et. (B_, note) Modern love, l i k e

good and e v i l , i s r e l a t i v e ; i t depends on how one ..looks at i t and on

who looks at i t . At the beginning of Justine, D u r r e l l quotes Freud:

" i am accustoming myself to the idea of regarding every sexual act as

a process i n which four persons are involved". There are Darley's

Darley and Justine's Darley and Justine's Justine and Darley's J u s t i n e .

For each of the four, there i s a d i f f e r e n t perspective of the a f f a i r .

It i s impossible to conclude which persons and which perspectives are

"tru e " and which are i l l u s i o n .

The lover sees himself r e f l e c t e d i n the loved. But she may be

d i s t o r t i n g the image returned to him, as Justine does. One must

c l a r i f y the d i s t o r t i o n s , but somehow the d i s t o r t e d image i s also true.

Darley decides the love has been r e a l and enriching f o r him, even i f

i t was a deception on Justine's part. (B, p. 130) Justine says she

would not know who she was i f she did not have to act a part. The part

she plays f o r Darley i s not n e c e s s a r i l y any l e s s true than any of the

other parts she plays. If a l l four persons are equally r e a l , we are

once more facing the problem of the s p l i t s e l f .

D u r r e l l has explained that he wanted "by my representation of the

play of human passions to suggest that the human personality as such

i s an i l l u s i o n " . This i s part of the implications of a post-Einstein

universe, since, as D u r r e l l has remarked, " r a i s i n g questions l i k e the Pr

c i p l e of Indeterminacy a f f e c t s the whole basis of human p e r s o n a l i t y " .

(Young, p. 64)

80

It i s also appropriate that the s e t t i n g i s Alexandria. As E.M.

Forster points out, i t was the Alexandrians who made love the c e n t r a l

theme of l i t e r a t u r e and who developed the various conventional access­

o r i e s f o r the love story, the "darts and hearts, sighs and eyes, breasts

and c h e s t s " . 1 D u r r e l l says, "Only the c i t y i s r e a l " , the characters

being f i c t i o n s . But the r e a l c i t y has a p a r t i c u l a r atmosphere, redolent

of love and the i l l u s i o n s of love, and i s therefore inseparable from

the "unreal" characters.

Love, l i k e a r t , i s a way of expressing something about the s e l f ;

i t i s a "means of communication". (B, p. 167) Usually the message one

conveys becomes a message to the s e l f about the s e l f . D u r r e l l f r e ­

quently uses terms associated with language when discussing love. An

instance of t h i s i s the grotesque episode when Darley sees h i s and

Justine's act of love re-enacted,- by two disgusting sub-human beings.

He and Justine and Melissa are reduced to t h e i r lowest terms.(J, p. 185)

There i s a cracked mirror outside the brothel booth, to record the

d i s t o r t e d r e f l e c t i o n . The episode i s r e t o l d i n Balthazar from the

point of view of Narouz, who i s probably the sub—human lover, and

now the gross love i s exalted. The hideous old p r o s t i t u t e i s a com­

posite image of Narouz's mother, L e i l a , and h i s unattainable beloved,

Clea.(B, p. 166 - 167) And Clea i s eventually Darley's truest love.

This i n t r i c a t e prism-sightedness i s commented on as i f i t were a

grammatical exercise: "Aphrodite permits every conjugation of the mind

and sense i n love". The i n c i d e n t , s u p e r f i c i a l l y a d e s c r i p t i o n of l u s t

at i t s most animal l e v e l i s an important clause i n the s e l f - d e s c r i p t i o n

of several major characters.

Alexandria (Garden C i t y , N.Y., 1961), pp. 32 - 38.

81

Melissa i s discussed v a r i o u s l y i n connection with t h i s language

of l o v e . From the detachment of the fourth volume, Darley wonders

"Was she simply a nexus of l i t e r a r y cross-references scribbled i n the

margins of a minor poem?'r (C, p. 41) Much e a r l i e r , he had used the

ambiguities of the r e l a t i o n s h i p s i n which she and Justine were i n ­

volved to i l l u s t r a t e the ambiguity of the word "love":

My " l o v e r f o r her, Melissa's "love" f o r me, Nessim's "love" f o r her, her "love" for Pursewarden - there should be a whole vocabulary of adjectives with which to q u a l i f y the noun - for no two contained the same properties; yet a l l contained the one indefinable q u a l i t y , one common unknown i n treachery. (B_, p. 131)

"Love" i s always l i a b l e to be "unlove", but the unlove viewed from

some other perspective may then be seen as love.

"Unlove" i s not the opposite of "love". Darley never "hates"

Melissa, but sometimes i n h i s contact with her he i s not focusing

on her. From h i s i s l a n d he sees h i s "lovers and friends no longer as

l i v i n g people but as coloured t r a n s f e r s of the mind". (B, p. 14) Some­

times what i s important i s the r e f l e c t i o n of one's s e l f i n the lover,

but meanwhile the lover e x i s t s as a person, as a s e l f to be r e f l e c t e d

i n turny:. l i k e Morgan's mirroring t a b l e - c l o t h .

B. Love as Knowledge

Turning a pun to a l i t e r a l meaning, Clea says, "Sexual love i s

knowledge, both i n etymology and i n cold f a c t " . (C_, p. 113) The know­

ledge i s not only c a r n a l l y of the other but also mentally and s p i r i t u a l l y

of oneself. Explaining the Clea incident i n which one lover revives

the other, D u r r e l l elaborates on t h i s idea:

82

The sexual act becomes i d e n t i f i e d with a l l knowledge, a l l knowing; and the act ( l i f e -saving, l i f e - g i v i n g ) seems a sort of b i o l o g i c a l contagion whose object i s not only the race's s u r v i v a l , but also the awakening of the psychic forces latent i n the human being. 1

From t h i s act, both lovers are awakened to w i l l e d c r e a t i v i t y . The

knowledge probes deep and searches wide, f o r "love i s a form of

ir 2

metaphysical enquiry , It seems that to l i m i t h i s topi c to the

i n v e s t i g a t i o n of modern love i s not to l i m i t i t at a l l . Kermode

has appropriately said that Quart et i s a book about everything. 3

It i s , however, an everything which turns out to be a k a l e i ­

doscopic view of one t h i n g , the s e l f . C a r l Bode comments, "Our

only world i s the world of s e l f - e x p l o r a t i o n - love gives us the

means", and the value of sex i s "what i t can teach us about our­

selves"

Relationship with others provides the only means of s e l f - e x p l o r a ­

t i o n . In h i s prismatic novel, Proust observed, " i t i s only with the

passions of others that we are ever r e a l l y f a m i l i a r , and what we come

to f i n d out about our own can be no more than what other people have

shown us". 5 Our own view of ourselves i s disturbed by imagination,

and the man who turns inward does not gain knowledge and cannot act.

l-The Kneller Tape, World, p. 161

2"Lawrence D u r r e l l Answers a Few Questions", World, p. 157

^ D u r r e l l and Others", Puzzles and Epiphanies (London, 1963) pp. 214 - 227.

4"A Guide to Alexandria", World, pp. 206 - 207

5Swann's Way, p. 99

83

Eventually he can do nothing but c u r l up i n a corner underground. If

an eye i s to see i t s e l f i t must look at something else which sees i t

and i'n which i t i s r e f l e c t e d :

This i t can do by looking i n the eye of another person, i n which, as i n a mirror, i t w i l l see i t s e l f r e f l e c t e d ; i n other words, an eye, to see i t s e l f , must look at an eye. So i n the same way, the soul, i f i t i s to know i t s e l f , must look at a s o u l . 1

This other, mirror soul resembles what Jung c a l l s the "soul-image".

Defining the soul as "the inner a t t i t u d e of the unconscious", Jung

finds i t "represented by d e f i n i t e persons whose p a r t i c u l a r q u a l i t i e s

correspond with those of the s o u l " . 2 The " d e f i n i t e persons" are a l ­

most always of opposite sex to that of the soul they r e f l e c t . Just as

love i s the only means to self-knowledge, so the acquiring of s e l f -

knowledge i s a c r i t e r i o n f o r love: "We can only love what i s within

tt 3

ourselves, what we recognize as symbolic of ourselves . The lover

loves another because he loves himself. Narcissus appears e x p l i c i t y

i n The Black Book: "They say we love only our own r e f l e c t i o n i n the

faces of others, l i k e c a t t l e drinking from t h e i r own faces i n a r i v e r " .

(BB , p. 167) Rank explores the d i f f i c u l t y of the a r t i s t who needs not

only the soul-image, but also a muse, a "witness of h i s l i f e to j u s t i f y

h i s production". 4 The danger i s that the b i o l o g i c a l w i l l hinder the

a r t i s t i c . This may be Darley's problem when he stops writing during

•••Sherrard, p. 194 .

2 p . 596 .

3Groddeck, pp. 235, 240 .

4pp. 51 - 6 0 .

84

hi s l i a i s o n with Clea. A f t e r t h e i r "rebirth"', she becomes h i s Muse,

"the c i t y ' s grey-eyed muse", and leads him back to h i s a r t . (C, p. 245)

There seems to be hope for the reunion of the lover and the muse. In

Rank's terms, t h i s would p a r a l l e l a progression i n art from the Romantic

at t i t u d e to the C l a s s i c a l .

Clea r i d e s with the na r r a t i v e f o r three volumes, but, when i n the

l a s t novel she becomes the heroine, i t seems that she must have been so

a l l along, i f only Darley and the reader had not been too b l i n d to

r e a l i z e i t . She i s f u l l of depths and paradoxes which one forgets and

r e c a l l s with su r p r i s e . She suffers experiences as t e r r i b l e as anything

Justine brings upon h e r s e l f : her entanglements with Amaril, Justine

and Narouz, her struggles with her a r t , the nightmarish attacks which

she c a l l s the "horror", the loss of her hand. Yet the impression she

creates i s one of l i g h t and c l a r i t y , an inner character corresponding

to her outer blondeness. Although she i s the intimate f r i e n d and even

advisor of everyone from Justine to Scobie, she seems to be always alone

and vulnerable. She i s gentle and feminine, but enjoys painting accurate

pictures of Balthazar's patients and t h e i r most r e v o l t i n g sores.

Her strange name may have several sources which appear to be r e ­

lated to her r o l e i n the Quartet. The Greek "Klea" means rumour.,

report, common fame, news, good report, fame or glory. Clea i s l i t e r ­

a l l y a bearer of good t i d i n g s , and each of Parley's three books ends

with a l e t t e r from her c l a r i f y i n g and re s t o r i n g equilibrium. Less

tangibly, t h i s word may have something to do with the c l a r i t y which

she exudes and also to herald Darley's emergence towards some degree

of success. C l e i a ("famous") was one of the Greek Hyades, nymphs who

85

supplied moisture to the earth, nursed the infant Dionysus, and were

immortalised as s t a r s . D u r r e l l ' s Clea i s part of the symbolism of r e ­

b i r t h by water and of the r e v i v i f y i n g of s t e r i l e life and a r t . The

Hyades' ass o c i a t i o n with Dionysus re i n f o r c e s t h i s motif and r e l a t e s i t

to the f i g u r e of the a r t i s t . The nymph, l i k e Clea, had several facets

to her character and came to be surnamed "the passionate". The s t e l l a r

Hyades are situated i n the forehead and eye of the c o n s t e l l a t i o n Taurus,

i n the organs of thinking and seeing, perceiving and r e f l e c t i n g i n the

double senses of both words. Clea accordingly perceives and i n s p i r e s

perception i n others, and her c l a r i t y i s a mirror f o r Darley. C a r l Bode

thinks she i s meant to p a r a l l e l the Star card of the Tarot. On t h i s

card a blonde female f i g u r e i s pouring Water of L i f e from two ewers.

She i s "Truth unveiled, glorious i n undying beauty, pouring on the waters

of the soul some part and measure of her p r i c e l e s s possession". Like

the Hyades' C l e i a , she i s concerned with a sort of i r r i g a t i o n of the mind.

As the "grey-eyed Muse," she may be r e l a t e d to C l i o , the muse of h i s t o r y

and heroic poetry. C l i o too i s a r a t i o n a l , rather cold maiden who lapses

b r i e f l y i n t o i r r a t i o n a l passion. F i n a l l y , Clea's severed hand and i t s

miraculous s t e e l replacement might be linked to the Old English " c l e a " ,

a variant of "claw". 1

•'•Sources f o r the etymology of Clea are: Bode, "A Guide to Alexandria", i n World, pp. 211 f f . Robert Graves, The Greek Myths (Pelican Book), v o l . I, chapters 27 and 39. The Oxford Companion to C l a s s i c a l L i t e r a t u r e , ed. S i r P h i l i p Harvey (Oxford, 1962). The Larousse Encyclopaedia of Mythology (London, 1959), pp. 178 - 185. A Lexicon, abridged from L i d d e l l and Scott, Greek-English Lexicon (Oxford, 1958). The Oxford Universal D i c t i o n ­ ary (Oxford, 1955). H.J. Rose, A Handbook of Greek Mythology (London, 1960). A.E. Waite, The P i c t o r i a l Key to the Tarot (New York, 1959), pp. 136 - 139.

86

C. The Multiple Views of Love

In The Faerie Queene, Spenser defined three kings of love:

' The deare a f f e c t i o n unto kindred sweete, Or raging f i r e of love to womankind, Or zeale of f r i e n d s cOmbynd with vertues meet: But of them a l l the band of vertuous mind, Me seemes, the gentle hart should most assured bind.

Spenser's c l a s s i f i c a t i o n of the faces of love i s p r e t t i e r than D u r r e l l ' s

v i s i o n of them, and also p r e t t i e r than they a c t u a l l y appear i n Spenser's

n a r r a t i v e , but the bases are s i m i l a r . In Alexandria, the "raging f i r e "

i s l i a b l e to spread to any sort of love, producing, i n place of "the deare

a f f e c t i o n unto kindred sweete", the incest of Pursewarden and L i z a or

the anguished and c S n f l i c t i n g entanglement of Nessim and Narouz and

t h e i r parents. The "zeale of f r i e n d s " i n Alexandria i s often just

that, the f r i e n d s h i p which l i n k s Darley and Balthazar and Nessim and the

rest of t h e i r c i r c l e , but i t also becomes Balthazar's homosexuality and

the lesbianism which temporarily binds Clea to Justine. Conversely,

passion-love may become a marriage of true minds, as i t i s with

Nessim and Justine at t h e i r best, or with Darley and Clea.

Whatever the category of the love, the foundation i s always the

same; as D u r r e l l ' s Sappho phrases i t , "the object i s self-possession

always". (S, p. 75) To "love" thy neighbour i s n e c e s s a r i l y to love him

"as t h y s e l f " . Pursewarden says, "There i s no Other; there i s only one­

s e l f facing forever the problem of one's se l f - d i s c o v e r y ! " (C_, pp. 98 - 99)

This was also the d e f i n i t i o n of love given by the younger D u r r e l l i n

The Black Book: " i f I take your hand i t i s my own hand I am k i s s i n g " ,

(p. 67)

Spenser, The Faerie Queene (Everyman E d i t i o n ) , IV, 9, i ( v o l . I I , p. 102)

87

As Darley and Clea become each other's mirrors, he r e a l i z e s

"that Clea would share everything with me, withholding nothing - not

eVen the look:of complicity which women reserve only f o r t h e i r mirrors'

(C_, p. 99) The look i s one of complicity because the mirror i s not

only where one looks f o r the whole t r u t h about oneself, but also

where one looks f o r guidance i n the preparation of the disguises to

be worn Before the world. Nessim and Justine exemplify t h i s better

than Darley and Clea;, t h e i r passion "came from complicity" . (M, pp.

204 - 205) Here i s another instance of D u r r e l l ' s echoing of s i g n i f i ­

cant words. "Complicity" i s an a r r e s t i n g word i r b o t h contexts, and

i s i t a l i c i z e d i n the e a r l i e r occurrence, so i t s reappearance resounds

i n the mind. Clea and Darley, l i k e Justine and Nessim, are to go

through anguish and estrangement and r e b i r t h to a shared discovery

of the meaning of t h e i r shared l i v e s . Nessim and Justine discover

"the true s i t e of l o v e " which i s "each other's inmost weakness".

They stare i n t o each others' minds, using a sight more perceptive than

that of the eye. When suspicion enters the stare, i t becomes " s i g h t ­

l e s s " . (M, p. 209)

Justine denies that f a l l i n g i n love i s a "correspondence of minds'

and defines i t as "a simultaneous f i r i n g of two s p i r i t s engaged i n the

autonomous act of growing up". Each loves the other as a mirror of

himself; so, instead of two minds communicating, there are two selves

simultaneously contemplating t h e i r respective r e f l e c t i o n s :

'The loved object i s amply one that has shared an experience at the same moment of time, n a r c i s s i s t i c a l l y ; and the desire to be near

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the beloved object i s at f i r s t not due to the idea of possessing i t , but simply to l e t the two experiences compare themselves, l i k e r e f l e c t i o n s i n d i f f e r e n t mirrors.'

(J, pp. 49 - 50)

This view, Darley emphasizes, may be true only of Justine h e r s e l f ; another

view might be true f o r someone e l s e . The "comparison" of shared exper­

ience becomes something more i n t r i c a t e than mere comparison. The com­

parison i s a further experience, and lovers "have something to learn

from each other". ( J , p. 47) The sharing of experience, which i s

f r i e n d s h i p , i s gradually swallowed up i n the mirror process; the loved

one i s a soul-image, and her sharing i s a r e f l e c t i o n of the lover's

sharing. Then, as the lover's soul-image, she i s part of himself,

and friendship swells i n t o a need f o r possession. Before Justine

and Darley become lovers, t h e i r f r i e n d s h i p "had ripened to a point

when we had already become i n a way part -ownerj^ of each other". (J_,

p. 48) They are victims of "a f r i e n d s h i p so profound that we s h a l l

become bondsmen forever". ( J , p. 26) The love r e l a t i o n s h i p develops

i n t o a four-way struggle, each lover f i g h t i n g to possess and also to

escape being possessed. They "contend f o r the treasures of each

other's p e r s o n a l i t i e s " . ( J , p. 198) In a double way, t h i s i s a con­

tending f o r the lover's own personality, since he f i g h t s to possess

the other who r e f l e c t s himself, and also to preserve i n v i o l a t e h i s

own i d e n t i t y as subject.

Morgan's Nigel says of Clare at one time that Bhe "was not then

an object of desire, but a centre of r e v e l a t i o n " . 1 The centre of

r e v e l a t i o n , as she becomes more c l o s e l y i d e n t i f i e d with the subject

P o r t r a i t , pp. 93 - 94.

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she i s revealing, becomes an object of d e s i r e .

The development from f r i e n d s h i p to passion may be reversed i n a

r e l a t i o n s h i p which provides neither partner with a soul-image. So

Amaril, u n t i l he meets h i s noseless Semira, finds a l l h i s passions

r a p i d l y becoming f r i e n d s h i p s . (B, p.132) In another way, perhaps

implying another meaning o f " f r i e n d s h i p " , the r e v e r s a l i s b e n e f i c i a l .

Cohen's love f o r Melissa i s seen to "mature as a l l love should into

a consuming and depersonalized f r i e n d s h i p " . (J_, p. 110) This amounts

to a transcendence of self-obsession. Cohen's love, as i t i s by the

time Darley observes i t , i s one of the least s e l f i s h emotions i n the

Quartet. Love turned inwards i s possession; turned outwards s e l f l e s s l y ,

i t becomes tenderness.

Justine meets both Darley and Arnauti i n a mirror, and the mirrored

exchanges between her and Nessim have been noted above ( J , pp. 65, 70 -

71) She i s i n p a r t i c u l a r a s s o c i a t i o n with mirrors because her loves

provide a major plot l i n e f o r the whole te t r a l o g y , and the ambiguous

character of her a f f a i r s i l l u s t r a t e s the r e l a t i v e nature of a l l human

" t r u t h " . The answer to the question: "Whom did Justine r e a l l y love?"

depends on which of the hinged mirrors the i n q u i r e r consults. She has

a "mania f o r s e l f - j u s t i f i c a t i o n " , a compulsive need f o r s e l f - e x p l o r a t i o n .

( J , pp. 132 f f . ) Analysing h e r s e l f , she s i t s i n front of a m i r r o r . ( J ,

p. 136) Melissa, naked before a mirror, f i n d s that the search f o r the

1 other must proceed through the s e l f i n the converse of s e l f - a n a l y s i s :

"Yes, I am looking at myself but i t helps me to think about you". (J_,

p. 54) At the sight of Sveva s i m i l a r l y viewing h e r s e l f , Pombal f e e l s

i n danger of being possessed, as i f she perceives h i s r e f l e c t i o n through

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her own.

Mountolive*s f i r s t r e a l i s a t i o n of h i s love f o r L e i l a i s described

i n terms of the mirror, s p e c i f i c a l l y the shattering of l i g h t and image

at the point where the subject touches i t s own r e f l e c t i o n face to face.

He i s "stumbling forward l i k e a man into a mirror". Their two images

meet " l i k e r e f l e c t i o n s on a surface of lake water". Since t h i s i s

a meeting of minds as well as of bodies, the shattered images apply

f i g u r a t i v e l y also: "His mind dispersed i n t o a thousand pieces".

(M, p. 28) Later, r e a l i z i n g what i s happening to him, Mountolive

questions himself i n a mirror (M, p. 27) as Arnauti had questioned

himself i n another time and place. (J, p. 73) The mirror that i s

L e i l a i s at f i r s t a l i b e r a t i n g force, freeing i n him a "whole new

range of emotions". This gradually becomes a mental relationship and

then not even that; the selves are no longer r e f l e c t e d i n each other

and no longer have a common obsession to share. For a long time, while

they are apart, they exist i n each other's minds. This i s a p e c u l i a r l y

Alexandrian t r a i t . Heliodorus knew about t h i s passion that i s p a r t l y

of the mind and the mysterious doings i n the time-process of the mind.

His Theagenes and Chariclea seem "rather to have been formerly acquaint­

ed, than to have now met f o r the f i r s t time, and to be returning gradually

i n t o each other's memory".1 This i s reminiscent of A l i c e ' s White Queen

remembering the future. Arnauti's f i r s t glimpse of Justine serves as a

reversed remembering of Darley's s i m i l a r encounter.

Mountolive's r e l a t i o n s h i p with L e i l a i s Alexandrian i n i t s i n v o l v e ­

ment with mind, memory and time. Once he has severed both the passionate

1"The E t h i o p i c s " i n The Greek Romance of Heliodorus, Longus and A c h i l l e s T a t i u s , trans. Rowland Smith (London, 1901), p. 68

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and the i n t e l l e c t u a l l i n k s , Mountolive f i n d s himself without a s o u l -

image and, without her help, he can f i n d no s e l f behind hi s own mask,

"save a t e r r o r and uncertainty which were e n t i r e l y new". (M, p. 236)

Apparently, self-possession had depended on possession of L e i l a . When

they do meet again, he f i n d s that the old soul-image, although power­

le s s i n i t s proper function and even ludicrous, i s able to prevent the

formation of any new m i r r o r - r e l a t i o n s h i p . H o r r i b l y changed h e r s e l f ,

L e i l a i n a sense forces time to stand s t i l l :

Sometime i n the distant past they had exchanged images of one another l i k e lockets .... She would remain forever blinded by the old love ... He was suddenly face to face with the meaning of love and time. (M, p. 281)

This meaning includes the l o s s of passion but also of "the power to

fecundate each other's minds". Their two selves no longer l i b e r a t e

the springs of a c t i o n i n one another. This i s what i s important i n

D u r r e l l ' s concept of time: mutability, a change i n r e l a t i o n s h i p s .

In the Arab Quarter a f t e r h i s l a s t rendezvous with L e i l a , Mountolive

has the " i l l u s i o n of time spread out f l a t ... the map of time which one

could read from one end to the other, f i l l i n g i t i n with known points

of reference". (M, p. 285) The cages of the singing b i r d s are " f u l l

of mirrors to give them the i l l u s i o n of company. The love songs of

b i r d s to companions they imagined - which were only r e f l e c t i o n s of

themselves!" (M, p. 285) The birds are " i l l u s t r a t i o n s of human love";

they love t h e i r own image i n another, since there i s l i t e r a l l y no other.

The birds too are l i v i n g by selected f i c t i o n s .

The birds sing to non-existent lovers, and the f a l s i t y of the

love does not lessen the q u a l i t y of the song. Darley f i n d s t h i s out

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when Balthazar shows him he was ntot Justine's most favoured lover:

And yet, even now I can hardly bring myself to f e e l regret f o r the strange enobling r e l a t i o n s h i p i n t o which she plunged me - presumably he r s e l f f e e l i n g nothing of i t s power - and from which I myself was to learn so much. (B, p. 130)

This independence of t r u t h i s a " r e a l l y h o r r i b l e thing", leading to

the unanswerable question, "Are we then nourished only by f i c t i o n s ,

by l i e s ? " (B, p. 140) The only answer he produces at the time i s

Pursewarden*s: "Everything i s true of everybody". This implies that

the q u a l i t y - i n - i t s e l f of an experience does not matter; the l e v e l s of

value depend on one's own r e l a t i v e p o s i t i o n . If one does not happen

to be i n love, can one morally create a sham love and play at passion

i n order to have a r e f l e c t i o n of oneself?

At least a t e n t a t i v e answer i s suggested throughout the four books.

Nessim suggests "love contracts f o r those whose souls aren't yet up to

l o v i n g " . He c a l l s t h i s a tendresse instead of an amour-passion. (M,

p. 195^, Pursewarden i s the major champion of t h i s tendresse. The

amour-passion i s not the most important thing,not even i n a love r e ­

l a t i o n , because "sex i s a psychic and not a p h y s i c a l a c t . The clumsy

coupling of human beings i s simply a b i o l o g i c a l paraphrase of t h i s t r u t h -

a p r i m i t i v e method of introducing minds to each other, engaging them".

(B, p.124) An introduction demands recognition of the other person

involved as well as an acknowledgement of one's own i d e n t i t y . The

experience achieved from t h i s i n i t i a l engagement of minds seems to be

only one f a c t o r i n what D u r r e l l means by "tenderness": "English has

two great forgotten words,namely 'helpmeet' which i s much greater

than 'lover* and *loving-kindness' which i s so much greater than 'love*

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or even 'passion*'*. (B, p. 128) Clea sees Pursewarden as "tortured

beyond endurance by the lack of tenderness i n the world", (J_, p. 244)

and Scobie says that the d i f f i c u l t y with h i s tendencies i s the "lack

of tenderness". (B, p. 36) Tenderness goes outward as well as inward,

gentle i n sympathy and dynamic i n i t s power to promote a c t i o n . This

i s the sort of l i n k that seems to exist sometimes between Nessim and

Justine, f o r a while between Darley and Melissa and most f u l l y between

Darley and Clea. It i s the type of love recommended by Spenser, based

on a j u d i c i o u s binding of "vertuous mind" and"gentle hart".

Pursewarden, planning h i s l a s t volume, speaks of h i s i n t e n t i o n

"to combine, resolve and harmonise". His tone now i s to be not one

of anguished soul-searching or passion, but of a f f i r m a t i o n , with

"the curvature of an embrace, the wordlessness of a lovers* code. It

should convey some f e e l i n g that the world we l i v e i n i s founded i n

something too simple to be over-described as cosmic law - but as easy

to grasp as, say, an act of tenderness, simple tenderness i n the

primal r e l a t i o n between animil and plant, r a i n and s o i l , seed and

t r e e s , man and God". (B, pp. 238 - 239) This s i m p l i c i t y i s not f o r

the self-obsessed and i t i s too d e l i c a t e for the " i n q u i r i n g mind

and conscience". In such primal r e l a t i o n s , such outward turnings

of the s e l f , l i e "hope f o r man, scope f o r man", the p o s s i b i l i t y of joy.

The d i f f i c u l t y i s that t h i s i s offered not as D u r r e l l ' s s o l u t i o n ,

but as Pursewarden*s. And Pursewarden commits s u i c i d e .

D. The Mirror of Incest

Narcissus should have been an Alexandrian. He w i l l not accept

the love of Echo, even though an echo i s a sort of mirror to the ear,

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and a l l h i s love i s concentrated inward. The mirror he chooses,

the pool, i s not a l i v e , and demands nothing from him. His fate

has been f o r e t o l d by the b l i n d hermaphrodite seer T e i r e s i a s . In

some versions of h i s story, the love he has rejected i s that of

a male f r i e n d Ameinias. It has also been said that the reason f o r

t h i s f a s c i n a t i o n with h i s own appearance i s the death of h i s twin

s i s t e r , whose features he attempts to r e c a l l i n h i s own. For various

reasons, and also to f u l f i l l the vengeful intentions of the gods,

Narcissus dies or commits s u i c i d e , and i s changed in t o a flower. 1

His legend reads l i k e a d i s t i l l a t i o n of some pa^afAlexandrian themes:

the mirror and echo, the prophecy of T e i r e s i a s , homosexuality, i n ­

cest, s u i c i d e , a l l based on the i r r a t i o n a l passion f o r the s e l f . In

the r e n d i t i o n given here, there i s a reason f o r Narcissus's s e l f -

love; i t might also be suggested that love f o r s e l f came before love

f o r the twin.

Incest i s a l i t e r a l form of mirror-love, since the object of

love i s p h y s i c a l l y as nearly as possible i d e n t i c a l with the s e l f .

In "western'cultures, i t i s generally regarded as a r e v o l t i n g aber­

r a t i o n . Sade r e f e r s to "the sink of incest and infamy". 2 In c l a s s i c a l

and Renaissance tragedy, i t provokes the most t e r r i b l e punishments from

whatever gods there be. In ancient Egypt and some other "eastern"

c i v i l i z a t i o n s , on the other hand, incest was rare because i t was an

exclusive p r i v i l e g e , rather than because i t was c r i m i n a l .

iThomas B u l f i n c h , The Age of Fable (London, 1919), pp. 106 -110. Encyclopaedia B r i t a n n i c a (1951), v o l . XVI, p. 117.

2 J u s t i n e , p. 105

95

The Ptolemies made Alexandria a " c i t y of i n c e s t " . ( J , pp. 96 - 97)

They claimed to be "successive emanations of the Deity, i n p a i r s of

male and female". 1 Through generations, a process of sex transference

seemed to develop, the men becoming s o f t e r , the women harder, i n t e r ­

weaving the dynasty with " t e r r i f i c queens". 2 D u r r e l l echoes Forster's

d e s c r i p t i o n when Darley, watching Justine, i s reminded of "that race

of t e r r i f i c queens which l e f t behind them the ammoniac smell of t h e i r

incestuous loves to hover l i k e a cloud over the Alexandrian subconscious".

(J, p. 20) In t h i s c i t y of extreme inversion, s e l f d i s s e c t s i t s e l f i n

an unhygenic operation on i t s e l f . Pursewarden has no d i f f i c u l t y f i n d i n g

precedents for h i s crime, involking the legends of O s i r i s and I s i s ,

the sun and moon, of Cleopatra h e r s e l f , of the s i s t e r who restores

the dead king to l i f e , l i n k i n g both art and incest to d e i t y . (C_,

p. 191) Marie Delcourt notes that i n alchemy the union of brother

and s i s t e r symbolizes the return to unity, so that the a r t i f e x i s

ass i s t e d by h i s soror mystica, i n a r e l a t i o n s h i p associated with a

seri e s of mythical syntheses, such as that of the sun and the moon.

Balthazar t r i e s to show how conventional love-making causes

''etiolation of the heart and reins 1", so one must "'turn inwards upon

one's s i s t e r ' " . He continues: "The lover mirrors himself, l i k e

Narcissus i n h i s own family". (J_, p. 97)

There i s only one l i t e r a l l y incestuous r e l a t i o n s h i p i n the Quartet,

that of Pursewarden and h i s s i s t e r , but the cbud on the Alexandrian

subconscious hovers everywhere i n varying degrees of i n t e n s i t y .

,M. Foster, Alexandria, p. 16.

^Alexandria, p. 23

3Hermaphrodite: Myths and Rites of the Bisexual Figure i n C l a s s i c a l A n t i q u i t y (London, 1961), p. 81.

96

Mountolive i n v a r i a b l y develops earache on h i s v i s i t s home and can be

cured only by h i s mother. She i s the centre of h i s "current of memor­

i e s " , of a pattern of time. (M, pp. 95, 99) To Clea's father, she i s

a key part of h i s own time processes and he i s described i n connection

with time: he must be home by midnight, he thinks of the future only

as i t involves her; he waltzes with her " l i k e a clockwork man" regulated

by the machinery to time, and Darley observes, "A daughter i s closer

than a wife". (B_, pp. 227, 234)

Mountolive and Clea are s t i l l f a r short of Oedipus and E l e c t r a ,

but anguish enters the entanglement of Nessim, Narouz and t h e i r

parents. The c o n f l i c t here cuts across sexes and involves the four

p r i n c i p a l s i n ambivalent r e l a t i o n s h i p s . Nessim and Narouz are l i k e

two sides of one coin: Nessim, handsome and urbane; Narouz, ugly,

awkward and barbaric. They are i d e n t i c a l not only i n f l e s h and blood,

but also i n what they love most, t h e i r mother, t h e i r lands, t h e i r

country. They are " l i k e two b l i n d people i n love who can only express

themselves through touch: the subject of t h e i r lands". (B_, p. 72)

Both sons have a more than d u t i f u l a f f e c t i o n f o r t h e i r mother. Nessim

i s her favou r i t e and Narouz i s "heartsick" over t h i s . (B_, p. 75) The

father i s rough and un a t t r a c t i v e , but he i s loved. Narouz has a

" l u s t f u l tenderness" f o r him, (M, p. 39), and i n h i s "face l i k e a

mirror r e f l e c t e d the various f e e l i n g s of (his father's) conversation".

(M, p. 44) Narouz i s i n other ways a mirror of h i s father (or v i c e

versa), i n h i s jealous love f o r L e i l a and h i s z e a l f o r the Coptic

cause, e s p e c i a l l y . Nessim resembles L e i l a , so that Mountolive

looks "through the face of Nessim and i n t o that of L e i l a " . (M, p. 17)

97

As L e i l a ' s lover, Mountolive i s involved i n the family s i t u a t i o n .

L e i l a wonders even i f he may be a sublimation of her incestuous

desires:

'It was a shock, I mean, to suddenly see Nessim's naked body f l o a t i n g i n the mirror ... I wondered suddenly whether my attachment f o r you wasn't lodged here somehow among the feeble incestuous desires of the inner heart*.

(M, pp. 53 - 54)

Narouz a l s o associates Nessim with Mountolive, at the same time

i d e n t i f y i n g himself with his father's jealousy. (M, p. 227) Nessim

f e e l s that he i s too much of a mirror, that some of h i s l i f e i s i n

L e i l a , so that he thinks he may "never be able to f a l l i n love pro­

p e r l y " while she l i v e s , (M, p. 195), and when she dies, h i s pri v a t e

reaction i s a f e e l i n g of new l i f e . (C, p. 266)

The love of Pursewarden and L i z a i s a major key to the subtle

arcana of the Quart et, but the key does not turn e a s i l y and the door

does not swing wide open. Pursewarden i s a strange, almost a mon­

strous f i g u r e . He i s a successful a r t i s t , apparently a great one, and

i t seems reasonable to assume that the views on art and l i f e which he

pronounces at length are generally D u r r e l l ' s views. But he commits

su i c i d e , while Darley, who i n comparison seems inept as writer and

person, survives, even triumphs. Somewhere i n Pursewarden's sbheme

there i s a flaw.

Pursewarden's a r t i s t , l i k e Rank's, i s a Faust. As creator, he

usurps suprahuman powers, and he continually contends with these

powers l e s t they control instead of obeying him. This struggle en­

gages a l l men, the a r t i s t more only because he i s more creative and

therefore more of a threat to the gods; "'I believe that Gods are men

98

and men Gods; they intrude on each other's l i v e s t r y i n g to express

themselves through each other - hence such apparent confusion i n

our human states of mind, our intimations of powers within or beyond

us'". (B, p. 124)

In Sade's Justine, Roland outdoes the merely Faustian i n h i s double

crime of incest and murder. He brags that he "most i n s o l e n t l y taunts

the hand of heaven and challenges Satan's own".1 Roland's mistress

i s h i s s i s t e r and t h e i r union i s a worse crime than her murder, because

i t i s outside the r u l e s of both good and e v i l . Studying the O s i r i s

myths, Pursewarden would f i n d that "the king marries h i s s i s t e r because

he as God (star) wandering on earth, i s immortal and may therefore not

propagate himself i n the ch i l d r e n of a strange woman - any more than

he i s allowed to die a natural death". 2 The a r t i s t , l i k e the god, i s

immortal, as a r t i s t i f not as man. Pursewarden observes both r u l e s ,

i n loving L i z a and i n arranging h i s own death. His immortality i s

t e s t i f i e d to i n the volumes of quotations from h i s works and conversa­

t i o n , which occur i n the speech of the other characters a f t e r h i s

death. In f a c t , he very seldom appears d i r e c t l y i n Darley's narrative;

people reminisce about him or quote him, and most of the episodes i n

which he does appear are made to r e l a t e to h i s death.

The a r t i s t ' s suicide i s an aspect of the subject-object s p l i t i n

the s e l f . Rank says that "a l i f e has to be s a c r i f i c e d so that i t may

l i v e on immortally i n the work". This s a c r i f i c e i s usually c a r r i e d

out f i g u r a t i v e l y as the s a c r i f i c e of immediate experience to the

p. 273.

:Rank; p. 145 note.

99

creation of experience. But the myth of the s a c r i f i c e i s r e l a t e d to

the sets of doubles i n legend - f o r instance, Cain and Abel, Romulus

and Remus. One of the mortal doubles "must be s a c r i f i c e d i f the im­

mortal ego i s to l i v e on i n the work". 1 Narouz i s k i l l e d instead of

Nessim. It i s Pursewarden*s half of the double s e l f which i s s a c r i ­

f i c e d , while L i z a goes on to experience l i f e as a whole s e l f with

her own l i f e . If h i s "immortal ego", h i s " i " , i s to l i v e on i n

h i s a r t , and the outer l i f e of experience i s to l i v e i n L i z a and

her love f o r Mountolive, there i s no need f o r Pursewarden himself

to continue l i v i n g . Frank Kermode suggests that t h i s incest may be

"meant to ind i c a t e a narcissism of the sort that sets up an o s c i l l a ­

t i o n between an a r t i s t ' s inner and outer l i f e that only an Empedoclean

suicide can end". 2 The o s c i l l a t i S n between the inner and outer l i f e

i s suggested i n Pursewarden*s j u s t i f y i n g h i s love with the myths and

symbols of h i s a r t . He and L i z a are so c l o s e l y i d e n t i f i e d that L i z a

i s part of h i s inner l i f e . Describing t h e i r childhood, L i z a says,

"*He converted my blindness i n t o poetry. I saw with h i s brain, he

with my eyes!" (C, p. 190) Liza's existence i s only inner, so the

world they create f o r themselves i s the " r e a l " world f o r them only.

Pursewarden sees with her- "eyes" which are the inner eyes, of imagina->

t i o n , the a r t i s t ' s eyes, and she "sees" through the products of h i s

b r a i n .

Ten t h i r s t y f i n g e r s of my b l i n d Muse Confer upon my face t h e i r sensualspelling.

(C, P. 188)

iRank, p. 202.

2 P u z z l e s and Epiphanies, p. 221.

100

These l i n e s , supposed to be Pursewarden's, show the blehdjng of outer

and inner, sense and imagination. Her reading and her recognition

of books and men depend on her sense of touch, a ""sensual s p e l l i n g " .

It i s also a"sensual s p e l l i n g " f o r him i n that her touch s p e l l s out

i n s p i r a t i o n f o r him. She i s his " b l i n d Muse". Their interchange

of parts of each other's mind and senses makes them more than mirror

r e f l e c t i o n s , but the general metaphor i s app l i c a b l e . As twins and

as soul-images, they r e f l e c t t h e i r double selves. There i s an e p i ­

sode i n which L i z a seems to be looking i n a mirror. Her b l i n d face

i s " l u c i d " , a clear mirror f o r an e a s i l y read r e f l e c t i o n . She i s

i n a sense a c t u a l l y "exploring her own blindness i n the great mirror",

because the fact of her i n r e l a t i o n to a mirror has p a r t i c u l a r i m p l i ­

cations:

This caged r e f l e c t i o n gives her nothing back Thfct women drink l i k e t h i r s t y stags from mirrors.

(C, p. 189)

Li z a exchanges no look of complicity with her mirror as Clea,

Justine and Melissa do. The extraordinary p a l l o r of her face, p o s s i b l y

contributing to i t s l u c i d i t y , i s uncamouflaged because she cannot en­

l i s t the mirror's a id i n masking i t . (C_, p. 168) Theere i s no mask

and no self-deception. Her blindness provides a sort of c l a r i t y ; her

lack of a mirror makes her a better mirror of herself and others.

"Blindness" has a f i g u r a t i v e connotation which Pursewarden implies

i n h i s wish f o r "someone to whom he could speak f r e e l y - but i t must

be someone who could not f u l l y understand?"(M, p. 174, D u r r e l l ' s i t a l i c s )

Melissa serves here, but she, " b l i n d " though she i s , "sees" f a r too

much f o r Pursewarden's good, f i r s t reading h i s hand accurately and

101

l a t e r revealing Nessim's p l o t .

Kermode c a l l e d the suicide "Empedoclean". Perhaps Pursewarden

was t r y i n g to prove h i s a r t i s t i c godhead and immortality. His death,

however, serves several other causes;leaving L i z a free to love Mount­

o l i v e , and exempting himself ffom the r e s u l t s of h i s d u t i f u l reporting

of Nessim's subversion to Mountolive and h i s subsequent warning to

Nessim. To both cases, h i s advice to Justine applies, " L a s t l y i t i s

honourable i f you can't win to hang yourself". (B, p. 125, D u r r e l l ' s

i t a l i c s )

D u r r e l l has linked h i s incest theme with that i n Herman M e l v i l l e ' s

P i e r r e . 1 Near the end of that book i s a d e s c r i p t i o n of a p o r t r a i t of

Beatrice Cenci:

So sweetly and s e r a p h i c a l l y blonde a being, being double-hooded as i t were, by the black crape of the two most h o r r i b l e crimes... possible to c i v i l i s e d humanity - incest and p a r r i c i d e .

L i z a i s blonde, but Pursewarden makes her dye her h a i r black to mask

t h e i r resemblance and hence t h e i r g u i l t , an attempt to drape the too-

revealing mirror.3

l-in a l e t t e r to Jean Fanchette, dated 31 March 1958, printed i n World, p. 223.

2(London, 1923), p. 489. P i e r r e also i s a writer i n love with h i s s i s t e r , who i s dark. His other love i s very blonde - and she i s an a r t i s t . But the d a r k - f a i r dichotomy i n l i t e r a t u r e i s not a simple matter of black and white, bad and good. In P i e r r e , dark Isabel i s more r e a l ^ v i b r a n t , h e a l t h i l y a l i v e , than the c o l d l y chaste, f a i r Lucy. See Northrup Frye, Anatomy of C r i t i c i s m (Princeton 1957), p. 101.

3 c f . Hawthorne's Marble Faun, which employs various motifs s i m i l a r to some of D u r r e l l ' s : a Mediterranean setting with Gothic d e t a i l s ; dark Miriam and f a i r Hilda; a r t i s t s ; the h i s t o r i c present of Rome and Beatrice Cenci l i k e Alexandria and Cleopatra; the climax of the c a r n i v a l which sweeps up Kenyon, as the Alexandrian c a r n i v a l does Darley, the a r t i s t - o b s e r v e r , who i s at the time unaware of the s i g ­n i f i c a n c e of events; the anonymity of costumes.

102

Perhaps there i s a connection also with the contrast between blonde

Clea, who i s an accurate mirror, and dark Justine, who deceives.

D u r r e l l places two characters i n the following scene from h i s

poem "Mneiae";; both are "my selves". They are I and I.

I, the watcher, smoking at a t a b l e , And I, my selves, observed by human choice,

A d i s i n h e r i t e d portion of the whole: With you the s i b l i n g of my s e l f - d e s i r e .

("Mneiae", P, p.l)

The fact that there are two I's makes each a " d i s i n h e r i t e d portion

of the whole", not integrated i n a unity of s e l f or of creation.

The l i t e r a l " s i b l i n g of my s e l f ' d e s i r e " i s the object of incestuous

love.

E. The Five-Sexed Mirror

In Alexandria one may love whom one pleases as one pleases.

There are "more than f i v e sexes" i n the c i t y which i s infused with

"something subtly androgynous, inverted upon i t s e l f " . (J_, p. 14)

The very layout map of Alexandria i s a map of the landscape of the

mind, showing the spacing of thoughts. From the introverted place,

from the desire whose object i s the d e s i r e r , come "the sick men,

the s o l i t a r i e s , the prophets" - those who l i k e to be alone and

"who have been deeply wounded i n t h e i r sex". (J, p. 14) The l o g i c a l

fate of the s e l f - d e s i r e r s i s to become "hermaphrodites of conscience,

copulating with ourselves". (S, p. 81) The homosexual makes one sex

do the work of two, and t h i s apparently i s an important achievement

of the Alexandrians, of "a whole heaving heap/of i n e f f a b l y herbaceous

Alexandrian hermaphrodites"'. (S_, p. 65) The Alexandrian god of love

103

i s no modern upstart invoked to j u s t i f y space-age immorality, but

"the o l d , double-sexed Eros of P l a t o " . 1

In the Aegean, e s p e c i a l l y on Cyprus, D u r r e l l encountered the

legend of the double-sexed, bearded Aphrodite, whose worshippers

wore the dress of the opposite sex. She was symbolic "not of l i c e n c e

and sensuousness, but of the dual nature of man". (BL, p. 171) 2 That

the s e l f - s u f f i c i e n t Aphrodite i s not an obscure Cypriot i s shown by

Spenser's d e s c r i p t i o n of Venus:

Both male and female, both under one name: She syre and mother i n here s e l f e alone,

Begets and she conceives, ne needeth other none. 3

This i s the u n i f i e d bisexual s e l f . Most selves are not u n i f i e d and

require another as soul-image to complete the s e l f . That other i s

u s u a l l y of the opposite sex since i t i s to mirror the soul which, i n

an attempt at balance, i s l i k e l y to possess q u a l i t i e s opposite to those

exhibited i n the conscious a t t i t u d e .

In the creation myths of Gnosticism, Hermetism, Orphism

and Judaism, the o r i g i n a l l y created human being i s androgynous and

i s subsequently divided i n t o two beings of opposite sex. The p r i ­

mordial bise«uality remains as a force d r i v i n g the psyche to seek

a r e s t o r a t i o n of u n i t y . 4

In Groddeck*s version of the u n i f i e d s e l f , the " i t - u n i t " of

an i n d i v i d u a l includes not only a male It plus a female I t , but also

•^"Lawrence D u r r e l l Answers World, p. 157. c f . Young, p. 62.

2also Delcourt, p. 27.

3Faerie Queene, IV, 10,- x l i (Vol. I I , p. 121).

d e l c o u r t , pp. 68, 77, 78. Groddeck, pp. 127, 129.

104

" a l l the It-beings of the ancestral c h a i n " . 1 Once again th& unity

i s one of time as well as of sex. It i s a union of inner and outer,

of conscious and unconscious, "to make up a balanced psyche". 2

Both art and a r t i s t have hermaphroditic q u a l i t i e s . In a r t , the

bisexual symbol i s the subject i n Greek statues of l i t e r a l hermaphro­

d i t e s , i n renaissance romances of transvestism, and i n D u r r e l l ' s

anonymous c a r n i v a l dominoes. The concept, o r i g i n a t i n g i n the uncon­

scious, i s welcomed by the a r t i s t as "the f i g u r e best able to sum up

h i s o r i g i n s and to symbolise c e r t a i n of h i s a s p i r a t i o n s " , that i s , to

depict h i s progress away from and return to unity. Delcourt describes

a Pompeian painting of a hermaphrodite receiving a mirror from a

bearddd Eros i n feminine dress. The mirror i s here associated with

b i s e x u a l i t y i n a r e f l e c t i o n of the dual nature of the psyche and the

ambiguous nature of eros.

The a r t i s t must be bisexual as the parthenogenic parent of h i s

work. He must also e s t a b l i s h the cosmic unit within himself and

become a whole i n d i v i d u a l : "Male, female and c h i l d make up the

complete human being and only when they are united within himself

can man become Creator and L o r d " . 4 Delcourt compares the double

being to the phoenix which f e r t i l i s e s and engenders i t s e l f .

X p . 75.

2Delcourt (Quoting Jung), p. x i i .

^Delcourt, pp. x i , 60, 63.

4Groddeck, p. 184.

5p. 71.

105

Darley, l i k e the phoenix, emerges from h i s own ashes, transcending

h i s former s e l f and becoming an a r t i s t .

The homosexual, l i k e the hermaphrodite, i s connected with the

idea of the i n t e g r a t i o n of p e r s o n a l i t y . In an extreme &$$m& to

unify, the a r t i s t chooses the mirror which w i l l r e f l e c t himself

most c l o s e l y . The likeness i s based on i d e n t i t y of sex rather

than of blood. The s e l f , attempting to i d e a l i s e i t s e l f , personi­

f i e s "a portion of i t s own ego i n another individual"." 1" The r e l a t i o n ­

ship i s both i d e a l i s a t i o n and humiliation of the s e l f . The loved

object i s as l i k e the s e l f as possible, because " t h i s g l o r i f i c a t i o n

of a f r i e n d i s fundamentally s e l f - g l o r i f i c a t i o n " . In h i s poem

"Elegy on the C l o s i n g of the French Brothels", D u r r e l l describes

the "bodies of boys" as mere substitutes, "the temporary/refuge f o r

a k i s s on the s i l v e r backs of mirrors". (P_, p. 196)

Balthazar exemplifies the ambiguity of the homosexual condition,

perhaps of any r e l a t i o n s h i p . He i s a wise man and a philosopher,

a doctor of mind and body, a l i v i n g key to depths of Alexandria,

" i t s P l atonic daimon, mediator between its,Gods and i t s men". ( J , pp.

72, 91) At the same time, he can allow passion f o r a boy to drag him

i n t o the squalor i n which Darley finds him i n Clea. He can joke

c y n i c a l l y about h i s lover f a l l i n g i n love with "a heavily moustached

Armenian g i r l ' r . (B_, p. 170) But there i s also a sort of philosophy

behind h i s aberration that eliminates any " q u a l i f i c a t i o n of h i s innate

-'•Rank, pp. 52, 56, 61.

106

masculinity of mind". (J, p. 92) The homosexual i s not a criminal

but merely a p r a c t i t i o n e r of a p a r t i c u l a r sort of love. Without

the traumatic difference i n sex, love can become a companionship

or an empathy, rather than an obsession. The subject r e t a i n s h i s

own soul-image, and the r e f l e c t i o n received from the mirror of the

lover i s an objective one:

'At least the invert escapes t h i s f e a r f u l struggle to give oneself to another. Lying with one's own kind, enjoying an experience one can s t i l l keep free the part of one's mind which dwells i n Plato, or gardening, or the d i f f e r e n t i a l c a l c u l a s * . ( J , pp. 96 - 97)

Balthazar does not maintain t h i s l o f t y plane i n h i s actual a f f a i r s ,

perhaps because h i s lovers are not r e a l l y h i s "own kind" but an

excessive i d e a l i z a t i o n of h i s s e l f i n the other.

Balthazar i s p h y s i c a l l y ugly, and h i s young men are b e a u t i f u l .

They are also stupid and s u p e r f i c i a l . It i s as though he chose a

mirror to r e f l e c t the opposite of himself. He i s supposed to have

been acquainted with the poet Cavafy, and D u r r e l l ' s c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n

of him resembles Cavafy's poems about the aging lover waiting, usually

i n a crowded Alexandrian cafe f o r the a r r i v a l of a youth whose beauty

he worships. 1 The beauty i s " e x q u i s i t e " , " i d e a l " , "the beauty of un­

natural a t t r a c t i o n s " . 2 As the wise man, the i n t e r p r e t e r of the

Caballa, Balthazar i s a seeker a f t e r absolutes, but i n h i s l i f e

embodies such contrary elements as to contradict the assertion of

a possible absolute.

iCavafy, pp. 66, 163 - 164, 133 and others. 2 Cavafy, pp. 133.

107

Homosexual lovers might be expected to f i n d f a i r l y uncomplicated

mirrors i n one another, but such i s not the case i n D u r r e l l ' s world.

They seem to be l e s s l i k e each other than the heterosexual lovers

are, maybe because the bisexual nature of the psyche required a s o u l -

image of the opposite sex, and the opposite-ness must be found i n

some way. Balthazar and h i s lover are contradictions. The l e s b i a n ­

ism of Clea and Justine i s possibly even more paradoxical. Here again

i s the conventional contrast of the f a i r woman and the dark: Clea

who c o n t i n u a l l y t r i e s t o discover and illuminate the t r u t h about

people and l i f e and art; and Justine who revels i n deception even

when she thinks she i s t r y i n g to confess. But these opposites provide

mirrors i n which each f i n d s v i t a l truths about h e r s e l f . Justine t e l l s

the t r u t h , as she would not to a male lov e r , and i s able to explore

her own problems ( J , pp. 227 - 228; B_, p. 51) Clea f i n d s that what

i s supposedly a perversion becomes a " p e r f e c t l y achieved r e l a t i o n s h i p * ,

because, as Balthazar explained, there i s no problem of the physical

body being i n the way. In t h i s love she fi n d s ' s e l f - r e a l i z a t i o n * ,

' s e l f - l o v e ' , a ground f o r 'health of the psyche*. (J_, pp. 129 - 130)

In her love f o r a woman, Clea discovers the t r u t h of her own womanhood

and her natural r e l a t i o n to men. (B, p. 54)

Among D u r r e l l ' s Alexandrians, there a number of remarkable

f r i e n d s h i p s . Some mention has been made of those related to hetero­

sexual love. There are also intimate acquaintances between members of

the same sex, without connotations of sodomy. The f r i e n d perhaps more

than the lover, may provide the s e l f with a clear r e f l e c t i o n , f o r

here, with passion eliminated, the mirror approaches o b j e c t i v i t y .

108

Balthazar does t h i s very e x p l i c i t l y f o r Darley with h i s i n t e r l i n e a r

c o rrection of Darley's story. But more or l e s s subtly they a l l do

t h i s f o r each other, by a s i g n i f i c a n t appearance, action, word, r e ­

vealing a new facet of things. Modern f r i e n d s h i p , l i k e modern love,

i s depicted i n terms of the r e l a t i v e , and each of them - Darley,

Balthazar, Pursewarden, Nessim, Mountolive and those more on the

fringe of the novels: Narouz, Amaril, Capodistria, Mnemjian, Keats -

each has s p e c i a l views and hidden l i g h t s perceptible from h i s p o s i ­

t i o n only.

But these friendships are a type of love, and as such make de­

mands upon the emotions. Tensions among the friends prove as agonising

as any among lovers; f o r instance, the t r i a n g l e of Mountolive,

Pursewarden and Nessim, i n which each of the three has a duty outside

personal r e l a t i o n s h i p s . These duties are to force Pursewarden to

for c e Mountolive to stop Nessim.

At i t s best, the Alexandrian f r i e n d s h i p i s that of Mountolive

and Balthazar, a "communion of minds" over a chessboard, the chess

a quiet parody of the p o l i t i c a l game Mountolive plays. The communion

i s rooted i n "the fecund silences of the r o y a l game". (M, p. 233)

Sometimes the f r i e n d s h i p becomes i d e n t i t y , as when Melissa bequeaths

her love for Darley to Clea (B, p. 135) and Darley l a t e r f inds Clea

where he had found Melissa. (C, p. 76)

The c a r n i v a l i s the climax of Alexandrian androgyny, f o r i n the

black dominoes, everyone i s bisexual, asexual or multisexual. If one

wears costume instead of the domino, i t i s l i k e l y , l i k e Pombal's

feminine ensemble, to suggest a nature contrary to one's own (B_, p. 179)

109

or i r o n i c a l l y l i k e i t . Toto de Brunei, the "gentleman of the Second

Declension", the sexually dispossessed", (B_, pp. 25, 200) wears

Justine's r i n g and i s "turned from a man in t o a woman," h i s outward r e g a l i a

corresponding to the sexual bias of h i s inner s e l f . For a l i t t l e

while he ceases to be dispossessed. He and Scobie have t h e i r own

pecul i a r languages, perversions of phraseology, the word made anala-

gous to the f l e s h . (B, p. 25, 248) The c a r n i v a l c e l e b r a n t s 1 are

completely anonymous. The disguised s e l f i s free to be i t s e l f . G u i l t

i s eliminated from acts performed i n costumes resembling thfct of the

In q u i s i t o r s , the probers of g u i l t . The ambiguous dark, amoral f i g u r e s

are "outward symbols of our own secret mind", t h e i r very obscurity

making them accurate mirrors of the hidden s e l f . (B, p. 201)

The most pleasant hermaphrodite i n Alexandria i s Scobie, the

comic mirror discussed e a r l i e r . He i s repeatedly eulogised i n arche­

t y p a l terms as the Ancient Mariner, the Old Man of the Sea, a sort of

upside-down s a i n t . He i s T i r e s i a s the hermaphrodite prophet. At the

ca r n i v a l a pec u l i a r jazz-song plays:

Old T i r e s i a s No one hal f so breezy as Half so free and easy as Old T i r e s i a s . (B, pp. 44, 202)

Its composer might have belonged to the s'hhool of T.S. E l i o t ' s shakes-

peherian rag, and Ca r l Bode has suggested that Scobie comes from Greek

myth v i a the W.aB.te.rLand..2

T i r e s i a s t r a d i t i o n a l l y i s very old, he i s a seer, he i s b l i n d and

The word i s appropriate; comparison i s made to dark r i t u a l s such as the Brocken or Sade's account of the satyr monks. (B, pp. pp. 190 - 191, 216) ~~

2World, p. 210

110

he i s b i s e x u a l . 1 Scobie i s "anybody's age" (J , p. 121), he sees

Clea's episodes with Amaril and Narouz. (C, pp. 124, 207) He has

one b l i n d eye, and, to add to his q u a l i f i c a t i o n s , he has tendencies

which i n s p i r e him to dress as a woman at f u l l moon. (B, p. 40, C,

pp. 80 f f . ) A f t e r h i s death, he i s canonized by the Arab quarter

as a saint with power to cure s t e r i l i t y , another of T i r e s i a s ' s

accomplishments.

Discussing The Waste Land i n h i s Key to Modern Poetry, D u r r e l l

quotes a Gnostic sayingr

'When the Lord was asked by a ce r t a i n man, When should his.'kingdom come, he s a i t h unto him: When two s h a l l be one, and the without ' and the within, and the male with the female, neither male or female'. (Key, pp. 152 - 153)

E.M. Forster's version of the reply begins, "Whenever ye put o f f

the garment of shame", the elimination of g u i l t , as at c a r n i v a l ,

being necessary f o r the purgation of d e s i r e . D u r r e l l goes on to

o f f e r T i r e s i a s as a symbol "pointing toward the future i n t e g r a t i o n

which l i e s beyond the h i l l s of science and metaphysics, anthropology,

and even perhaps artJ i t s e l f " . Scobie, joke though he i s , achieves

some measure of t h i s i n t e g r a t i o n . Clea points out that "He was

quite s u c c e s s f u l l y himself". (C_, p. 120) His himself-ness includes

h i s b i s e x u a l i t y . He i s , as we l l , wise i n the ways of the Sphinx's

r i d d l e of man: 'Cheer up, my boyo, i t takes a l i f e t i m e to grow.

People haven't the patience any more". (C_, p. 33) His death i s

squalid, but i s l o s t i n the context of h i s sainthood and i n the

1Delacourt, p. 42.

A l e x a n d r i a , p. 235.

I l l

reminiscences of the Alexandrians. Besides, he i s not the f i r s t

martyr to die a disgusting death of h i s own i n v i t i n g .

A l e s s a t t r a c t i v e double-sexed saint i s the Pope Joan of D u r r e l l ' s

t r a n s l a t i o n from Royidis. She grows a beard to escape rape, disguises

h e r s e l f as a monk, begins to believe she has changed sex l i k e T i r e s i a s ,

and f i n a l l y bears a c h i l d during a papal procession. She has the con­

ventional trappings of the hermaphrodite character, but unlike Scobie

she f a i l s t o be h e r s e l f , because, instead of escaping from her femin­

ine state she i s overcome by i t . 1 The res u l t i s d i s i n t e g r a t i o n of

the s e l f she has created.

The Alexandrian, l i k e V i r g i n i a Woolf*s Orlando, i s man and woman

and "knew the secrets, shared the weaknesses of each". 2

Delcourt, p. 90.

Orlando, p. 145. Delcourt (p. 87) l i s t s nine female saints who assumed masculine guise; three of these are Alexandrian.

CHAPTER IV: The Mirror of Malady: I l l n e s s and Mu t i l a t i o n

"I swear, gentlemen, that to be too conscious i s an i l l n e s s -

a r e a l thoroughgoing i l l n e s s " , says the underground man, who i s ,

he claims, a " s i c k man".1 Commenting on t h i s passage, F.J. Hoffman

writes, "What he has i n mind i s the s e n s i t i v i t y to himself i n terms

of h i s surroundings, as well as an almost absurd s e n s i t i v i t y to the

mirror r e f l e c t i o n of h i s behaviour and appearance". The Dostoevskian

disease, and the D u r r e l l i a n , i s a s e l f - s i c k n e s s , and the major symp-2

ton i s i n a c t i o n . The Alexandrians are accident-prone, disease-prone,

deformity-prone. They lose hands, eyes, noses and minds. Some are

i n f l i c t e d with incurable diseases and some are born deformed. They

are lovesick, timesick, and s e l f - s i c k .

Suffering i s "an acute form of self-importance". ( J , p. 181)

Nessim r e a l i z e s t h i s , and knows also that he i s incapable of f o l l o w ­

ing Plotinus's command to "Look i n t o yourself, withdraw i n t o yourself

and look". He cannot bear to see a true r e f l e c t i o n of himself. Pombal

complains of the filexandrian "mania f o r d i s s e c t i o n , f o r analysing the

subject", the subject of one's own loves and actions ( J , p. 21; D u r r e l l

i t a l i c s ) This self-importance and excessive in t e r e s t i n s e l f - a n a l y s i s

are unhealthy, because they amount to f a s c i n a t i o n with one's own disease

l i k e picking a sore. Plotinus's intent i s to diagnose and cure, not

to dissect and preserve.

Justine's quest among the psychoanalysts of Europe i s a deception

of h e r s e l f and others. Pursewarden accuses her of using neurosis as

xNotes, pp. 53, 56.

2Beckett, pp. 30 - 31.

113

an excuse and suggests that her i l l n e s s i s " ' j u s t due to an inflamed

s e l f - p i t y * " . (B, pp. 122, 125) She checks herself short of any reve­

l a t i o n which might give the analyst a clue. On h i s ever-perceptive

mirror, Pursewarden writes f o r her:

"Oh Dreadful i s the check! Intense the agony -When the ear begins to hear

And the eye begins to see!"(M, p. 174)

The r e a l agony begins at the verge of detection,, and hence of a n n i h i ­

l a t i o n , of the t r u t h about the s e l f . But i t i s too easy to dismiss

t h i s as malingering. The agony i s r e a l because one desires the t r u t h

which one i s a f r a i d to face. Justine says, "'Perhaps our only sickness

i s to desire a t r u t h which we cannot bear rather than to rest content

with the f i c t i o n s we manufacture out of each other*" (C, p. 60)

This i s the greater sickness: to be discontented with the le s s e r

sickness complained of by Pombal, and diagnosed by Clea as "' to want

to contain everything within the frame of reference of a psychology

or a philosophy!" ( J , p. 77)

Groddeck believes that a cause of any i l l n e s s i s "to gain pleasure"

e i t h e r by escaping from an i n t o l e r a b l e r e a l i t y or by expiating one's own

g u i l t . 1 Mountolive's earache usually occurs only when h i s mother i s

near to cure him, but makes an exceptional appearance i n time to pre­

vent him from attending Pursewarden's cremation where he might encounter

Nessim and be forced to act or decide. This i s excape and also g u i l t

f o r what he must do to Nessim. Like Proust's man, he prefers "h'is i n v a l i d ' s

cell',' with h i s mother ministering to him, to the give and take of human

pp. 81 - 82.

114

i n t e r c o u r s e . 1 As i n Justine's case, the pain i s r e a l .

In The Black Book, D u r r e l l has written what might be a d e s c r i p t i o n

of h i s Alexandria:

The problem of the personality grows l i k e a stench i n the a i r , i n f e c t i n g the town with man's e s s e n t i a l l o n e l i n e s s . Rib to r i b , face to face with the absolute h e r a l d i c p e r s o n a l i t y which wakes i n each other's eyes, even the lovers tremble, and become sick with the horror and emptiness.

(p. 175)

Feeling t h i s i n f e c t i o n i n himself. . Darley f l e e s from the p e r s o n a l i t y -

plagued .city to h i s Greek i s l a n d . He too begins h i s book by announcing

that he i s a sick man. Unlike the underground man, he retreats i n order

to heal himself. ( J , p. 13)

The] psychosomatic epidemic i s a modern ailment, and D u r r e l l claims

that Groddeck*s equating of mind and body does, i n the medical f i e l d ,

roughly what E i n s t e i n has done i n the realm of physics with the concepts

of space and time". (Key, p. 209) The i l l n e s s of body i s also i l l n e s s

of mind, Returning to Alexandria, Darley has come "face to face with

the nature of time, that ailment of the human psyche". (C, p. 12) He

has been able to recognize time as an "ailment" because of h i s f a i l u r e

i n writing about Justine.. Events cannot be reduced to chronology;

there are too many ways of seeing any one occurrence and time i s subor­

dinate to one's position- r e l a t i v e to the occurrence. The attempt to

chronologize, l i k e the attempt to systematize, i s a l a t e symptom which

ois often mistaken f o r a cure. So "Justine surrounded by her p h i l o s o ­

phies i s l i k e an i n v a l i d surrounded by medicines", but she i s a chronic

i n v a l i d with quack medicines and her brain, attempting to apply philosophy,

Wilson, Axel's Castle, p. 184

t i c k s " l i k e a cheap alarm-clock". ( J , p. 133)

"To be l o v e s i c k " i s a c l i c h e which i n the Quartet i s a f a c t . Here

"love" i s defined as "a cancerous growth of unknown o r i g i n which may take

up i t s s i t e anywhere without the subject knowing or wishing i t " . (C_, p.

106) It i s a "synonym f o r derangement or i l l n e s s " . "You are i n love"

i s equal to ""you have got cancer". (C, p. 256) The heart i s the " s i t e

of the carcinoma maxima", (C_, p. 256) and the "aetiology of love and

madness are i d e n t i c a l except i n degree". (B_, p. 56) The possession of

a human heart i s a "disease without remedy". (M, p. 156) Pursewarden*s

disease i s l i k e Proust's "malady, which was Swann's love", - past opera­

tion"." 1" L e i l a dies of "heartsickness l i k e a true Alexandrian". (C, p.

266)2 This has been the Alexandrian disease since Longus's Chloe

complained, " i am no doubt i l l , but what my malady i s I know not", and

i s given no p r e s c r i p t i o n , " f o r there i s no mighty magic against love;

no medicine, whether i n food or drinkr nothing, i n short, save kisses

and embraces, and the closest union of the naked body'".3

Cavafy, writes of "an e r o t i c i n t e n s i t y , unknown to health" and

his young men are " s i c k with what love meant". 4

The heart deludes i t s e l f because i t i s "tormented by the desire

to be loved". (B, p. 240) The s e l f , i n order not to be hopelessly i n -

1Swann's Way, p. 237.

2 8 e c i l y Mackworth (World, p. 26) counts "at least three deaths by 'heartsickness' which i t seems i s a l e t h a l Alexandrian s p e c i a l t y " .

3"Daphnis and Chloe" i n The Greek Romances, .trans. Rowland Smith (London, 1901), pp. 272, 290~.

4 ,"lmenos", p. 108. " i n the Dreary V i l l a g e " , p. 149.

116

verted, demands another s e l f as a mirror and a complement. The delusion,

cancer and madness, a r i s e when t h i s becomes a demand f o r mutual possess­

ion, when the love i s turned wholly inward and the loved one seen only

as an image of oneself. Love-sickness i s s t i l l self-sickness.

Love, when i t turns outward as well as inward i s a healing force,

" l i f e s a v i n g , l i f e - g i v i n g " . Groddeck claims that "without the arrow

of Eros no wound can heal, no operation succeed, no symptom improve .

Eros i s the l i f e - f o r c e , love which gives as well as takes, which not

only mirrors the s e l f , but shows i t i n r e l a t i o n toothers.

A popular disease i n Alexandrian and other l i t e r a r y climates i s

t u b e r c u l o s i s . Melissa i s dying of i t , and her lovers are fascinated

by "the soft bloom of phthsis", (M, p. 166) and "her blue-veined phthsic

hands". ( J , p. 18) Gracie, the p r o s t i t u t e i n The Black Book, i s consump­

t i v e , and the poem "A>Bowl of Roses", addressed to a Melissa, speaks of

flowers t r a v e l l i n g "under glass to great sanatoria". (P, p. 2 8 ) 2 The

explanation f o r the association of tuberculosis with the "good" p r o s t i ­

tute may perhaps be found i n Groddeck's theory that the "hollow chest

and the hollow womb are symbolically i d e n t i f i e d " , "breathing and be­

g e t t i n g " depending on "an inward and outward rhythm". 3 This theory

may be i m p l i c i t i n the episode i n which Darley revives Clea with

x p . 189.

2The d i r e c t o r of the sanatorium i n Mann's Magic Mountain exclaims, " i s i t my f a u l t i f phthsis and concupiscence go together?" quoted i n an anonymous a r t i c l e " L i t e r a r y Giant" i n MP of Canada IV, no. 9 (September, 1963), p. 76. '

3 p . 115.

117

a r t i f i c i a l r e s p i r a t i o n , r e s t o r i n g her breath, the creative a c t i v i t y of

them both, and a r e l a t i o n s h i p which i s both outward and inward.

In so v i s u a l l y v i v i d a c i t y as D u r r e l l ' s Alexandria, i t i s note­

worthy that many of the inhabitants are b l i n d . The day begins with

the c a l l of the b l i n d muezzin, who i s able to see the nature of the

pe r f e c t i o n of A l l a h , and,- himself past cure, i s the disseminator of

healing powers. ( J , p. 25; M, pp. 292 - 293; C_, pp. 90, 258) Alexandri

canaries a t t a i n a song nearer to p e r f e c t i o n i f they are blinded (M, p.

255) The canaries are mentioned by Memlik, who blinds h i s enemies be­

cause they see too much. But blindness i s also a symbol-in-reverse

f o r the "second s i g h t " . Scobie has l o s t an eye. The b l i n d sheik who

presides over Memlik's Night of God has an i n c r e d i b l e power of memory.

(M, pp. 261 - 264) L i z a ' s blindness "gives an expression of double

awareness". (C_, p. 114) Magzub the dervish i s not b l i n d , but possesses

unusual eyes i n whose gaze i s mortal danger. (B_, pp. 160 f f . ) ; Narouz,

the supernaturally i n s p i r e d , has e x t r a o r d i n a r i l y blue eyes, a feature

described as an e v i l sign and a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of the examining angels.

(M, pp. 32, 118) Narouz i s an examining angel, t e s t i n g and i n v e s t i g a ­

t i n g himself and arousing a s i m i l a r anguished process i n others. Hamid

i s blinded i n one eye to evade conscription and becomes in s c r u t a b l e , a

possible seer. (C, p. 258; B, p. 214; J , p. 148) Nessim loses an eye

and a f i n g e r when he i s forced to stop a c t i o n . (C, p. 18)

Those who are maimed i n one eye only seem to be able to regain

the power to act, to cease and begin again. Capodistria, the man with

the eye-patch, i s Justine's childhood ravisher and l a t e r her f r i e n d .

He presumably dies i n one novel, but i s revived i n another. There i s

118

no consistent symbolic equation f o r the eye, but i t i s usually connected

with extraordinary powers of perception and with the power f o r a c t i o n .

It i s above a l l the mind's eye, and the unseeing eye i s the unperceptive

psyche. 1

L i z a ' s blindness i s part of an eerie c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n of the

mysterious partner of the a r t i s t ' s i n c e s t , hidden u n t i l well on i n the

story, a f a i r lady disguised as a dark. Her blindness i s i n part a mask

for the "secrets of the foundling heart". (M, p. 67) Her head i s compared

to that of a Medusa, and both her lovers, Pursewarden and Mountolive, are

turned to stone, reaching a point where action i s no longer p o s s i b l e .

Her blindness i s l i k e that of a Greek statue with " b u l l e t holes f o r

eyes". (M, pp. 60, 67) The holes are not meant to be b l i n d , but repre­

sent the s i t e of sight, the very emptiness emphasizing the impact of

that sight. L i z a can "see" what Pursewarden cannot, so she i s not

destroyed by t h e i r love, but can o b j e c t i f y i t and place i t i n a l l i t s

contexts. F i n a l l y she can go from i t to.a more "healthy" love with

Mountolive. Pursewarden cannot o b j e c t i f y and he cannot love anyone

e l s e .

In Alexandria as elsewhere, love i s b l i n d . Darley speculates

on t h i s when he r e a l i z e s Justine's deception. (B, p. 185) Discussing

Clea's love f o r Justine, he t a l k s of "the transforming membrane, the

cataract with which Aphrodite seals up the s i c k eyes of lovers, the

t h i c k , opaque form of a sacred sightlessness. (B, p. 54)

The possessed lover's passions obscure h i s mirror view of himself

-••"Psychologists often compare consciousness to the eye: we speak of a v i s u a l - f i e l d and of a f o c a l point of consciousness". Jung, p. 532.

119

and also h i s outward-going view of the beloved.

Nessim l o s t an eye and a f i n g e r , and thus suffers p a r t i a l l y from

both of the two major Alexandrian mutilations. The disembodied hand,

a part of the s e l f , become an object f o r comment and f o r horror, i s

one of D u r r e l l ' s f a v o u r i t e motifs. In The Black Book, a skeleton hand

wearing a wedding r i n g i s stuck to a hotel doorknob (p. 187). Sappho

receives a b a t t l e souvenir, a severed arm wearing a b r a c e l e t . Once

part of a l i v i n g man, i t i s now merely a thing "with no reference to

t h i s world/Existing there i n some recess of time", (pp. 41, 43) Baird

i n The Dark Labyrinth looks at h i s hands "as i f they belonged to another

man" f o r a clue to h i s s e l f .

In the Alexandrian Quartet, hands are re l a t e d to the occult stream

which runs through the blood of most of the characters. Melissa reads

t r u t h from Pursewarden's hand, and sh o r t l y afterwards reveals to him

other truths which change, i n f a c t , end, h i s whole existence. Handprints

are the talisman of Alexandria - blue or black p r i n t s of children's

hands, supposed to ward off the e v i l eye, one d i s t o r t e d member to

exorcise another. ( J , pp. 45, 61, 189; B_, pp. 73, 174; M, pp. 288 f f ;

C, p. 146 f f . ) These p r i n t s are l i k e "blows struck by conscience" i n

a l a s t desperate stand against the dark powers and the " t e r r o r s which

thronged the darkness". ( J , pp. 61, 189) They are frequently associated

with the p i t i f u l c h i l d p r o s t i t u t e s among whom Justine supposedly f i n d s

her daughter. The l i t t l e hands s t r i k e f o r something beyond the u l t i ­

mate p i t of depravity. The stark encounter with e v i l i s an encounter

with the depths of themselves and an insight i n t o those with them.

For Mountolive, Pursewarden, Justine and Darley, i t i s an experience

120

not immediately understood, because of i t s nearness to the deep inner

mysteries.

Describing Balthazar, Darley remarks that, i f he had such ugly

hands, he would amputate them and throw them i n t o the sea. ( J , p.. 91)

Later on, Balthazar attempts to do just that. (C, p. 69) The irony

i s almost too heavy here. .It i s Balthazar's story that shows Darley

the r e l a t i v e nature of t r u t h and changes the d i r e c t i o n of h i s l i f e and

work. Balthazar i s the older, wise man, learned i n the l o r e of science

and r e l i g i o n . Darley i s the novice i n l i f e and a r t , but h i s o r i g i n a l

manuscript, which Balthazar himself had rendered i n v a l i d , i n s p i r e s

Balthazar to s e l f - d e s t r u c t i o n . The sage at t h i s time i s i n a state of

complete mental and physical degradation, and must be brought back to

l i f e by the e f f o r t s of the l e s s e r beings around him. Darley and Balthazar,

d i s s i m i l a r though they are, mirror each other's humiliation and r e b i r t h .

Balthazar i s responsible f o r the accident which forces Darley to

cut o f f Clea's hand, another death and r e b i r t h . The marvellous a r t i f i ­

c i a l hand leads Clea back to her s e l f . Henry M i l l e r remarks that t h i s

hand "resides i n the psyche". (Cor, p. 363) This i s the mind's hand, as

the eye i s the mind's eye. Groddeck says that every c e l l and organ

of the body has a "consciousness of i n d i v i d u a l i t y " : " i believe the

human hand has i t s I, that i t knows what i t does, and knows that i t

knows".1 Clea's new hand i s not even r e a l l y part of her, and so i s

even more marked a specimen of i n d i v i d u a l i t y , an image of how she,,

as the whole i n d i v i d u a l , i s to act. With or without i t s secondary

symbolic associations, the hand i s always b a s i c a l l y connected with the

1p. 83.

121

human power to create.

Several other mutilations should be mentioned here. Amaril's

search f o r the love that w i l l not end i n friendship brings him to '"a

p a i r of anonymous hands" and a noseless face. He i s able to create

Semira's face, i n fact her whole character, i n h i s own soul-image.

(B, p. 196; 202; M, pp. 148 f f . ) Narouz i s p h y s i c a l l y deformed, with

a h a r e l i p and ungainly body, and.his outer form suggests inner, since

deformity "confers magical powers i n the East". (B, p. 161, 167, 68;

M, p. 27) L e i l a ' s smallpox deprives her of both beauty and self-esteem,

so that she cannot bear e i t h e r l i t e r a l or metaphorical mirrors. She

p r a c t i s e s expressions with her eyes, and i s compared to "a man struck

suddenly b l i n d learning to s p e l l with the only member l e f t him, h i s

hands". (B, p. 79) Like her l a t e r r i v a l L i z a , L e i l a must learn sen­

sual s p e l l i n g . The eye and the hand are ways of contacting other

selves, and of expressing one's own s e l f and.receiving back the image.

This melange of i l l n e s s e s and deformities i s part of the obsess­

ive preoccupation with one's s e l f to the_exclusion of the outer world

and of the outer view of one's s e l f .

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CHAPTER V: The Landscapes of the Mind

A. Alexandria

The inner s e l f i s r e f l e c t e d i n the outer physical environment.

There are three major settings i n the Alexandrian Quartet. The pre­

dominant one i s Alexandria as reshaped by D u r r e l l i n t o what George

Steiner c a l l s "one of the major monuments of the architecture of the

immagination", comparable to Proust's Paris and Joyce's D u b l i n . 1 The

other settings are Darley's Aegean Island, which provides the scene f o r

a small part of each of Darley's novels, and England, which i s at centre

stage only f o r part of Mountolive, but i s always there only two small

seas and a continent away.

In a prefatory note to Justine and a s i m i l a r one to Balthazar,

D u r r e l l states that a l l the characters are imaginary and "only the c i t y

i s r e a l " . This seems a straightforward explanation, but i t i s not the

whole t r u t h . "Real" does not mean simply " f a c t u a l " , and "inventions"

or "imaginary" are not the same as '"ficti o n " . . In these senses, Alexandria

i s not " r e a l " . C r i t i c s who have been there i n s i s t that i t i s "not, of

course, the Egyptian harbor-city of our ordinary acquaintance .

This i s another h a l f - t r u t h , f o r D u r r e l l ' s Alexandria i s c e r t a i n l y close

to the f a c t u a l c i t y i n E..M. Forster's guidebook. But perhaps Forster

i s a n o v e l i s t ' s cartographer.

Past the prefatory note, but s t i l l at the beginning of Balthazar,

Darley f i n d s that "the c i t y , half-imagined (yet wholly r e a l ) , begins

J-World, p. 18.

2 S t e i n e r , World, p. 18.

123

and ends i n us, roots lodged i n our memory". (B, p. 13) The imagined

includes the r e a l , and what i s r e a l about the c i t y i s what i s i n the

characters, t h e i r imagined and invented selves. C e c i l y Mackworth

says Alexandria i s " i n f l a t e d i n t o the Sadean dream of the unleashed

subconscious". 1 The c i t y i s an image of the s e l f , which i s " h a l f -

imafcined" because i t i s p a r t l y a product of the mind. It i s " r e a l " as

the conterts of consciousness are r e a l .

D u r r e l l has given the c i t y a s e l f and a d e f i n i t e p e r s o n a l i t y .

This must be where i t parts company from the Alexandria of geography

textbooks, and yet the personality i s not purely D u r r e l l ' s invention.

A c h i l l e s T a t i u s , wide-eyed at the m u l t i p l i c i t y and i n t r i c a c y of o

Alexandria, gave up t r y i n g to f i t i t i n t o categoaes for d e s c r i p t i o n .

It has always been a c i t y of mysteries and m u l t i p l i c i t i e s , and

l i t e r a l l y a c i t y of mirrors. A great "mirror" or r e f l e c t i n g instrument

once was placed above the Pharos lighthouse, and to i t contemporary 3

rumor and subsequent legend a t t r i b u t e d magical powers of perception.

Alexandria i s concerned with the inner l i v e s of i t s inhabitants. At

times i t i s drawn as a great extra-human force compelling t h e i r a ctions.

Dobree quotes Groddeck, *I am l i v e d by the I t * and suggests that Alexan­

d r i a " l i v e s " i t s people. 4 If t h i s i s so, Alexandria i s t h e i r unleashed

subconscious, the secret compulsions, and i s appropriately described

with ornaments of mystery, i n t r i g u e and magic. Therefore, a l s o , the

J-World, p. 29

2"The Loves of Clitophon and Leucippe", Greek Romances, pp. 435 - 436.

A l e x a n d r i a , pp. 145 - 146, 150. Pharos and P a r i l l o n (London, 1961), p. 20T

4World, p. 194.

124

c i t y i s made a motivating f a c t o r i n action: "We are the children of

our landscape; i t di c t a t e s behaviour and even thought i n the measure

to which we are responsive to i t ' r . ( J , p. 41) This observation i s

relat e d to the question of how actions are to be judged. If human

beings are to be considered as "part of place", "members of a c i t y " ,

(B, p. 225) then judgement of any action involves judging the whole

h i s t o r y of Alexandria:

The c i t y which used us as i t s f l o r a - p r e c i p i t a t e d i n us c o n f l i c t s which were hers and which we mistook f o r our own: beloved Alexandria! ... I see at l a s t that none of us i s properly to be judged f o r what happened i n the past. It i s the c i t y which should be judged, though we, i t s c h i l d r e n , mast pay fhe p r i c e . (<J, p. 13)

The c i t y i s responsible f o r the sins of i t s inhabitants. Justine i s

"a c h i l d of the c i t y , which decrees that i t s women s h a l l be the volup-

t a r i e s not of pleasure but of pain". ( J , p. 47) The human w i l l i s

inadequate to contend with Alexandria and must surrender as Antony

did , "surrender for-ever to the c i t y he loved". ( J , p. 14) This i s

the Alexandria of the f i r s t novel. In Clea, i t i s described as

"Alexandria, princess and whore", (p. 63) Antony's princess and whore

was a human being, and was, moreover, himself as well as Cleopatra.

He was both strong and weak, magnificent and despicable, as Alexandria

i s " r o y a l c i t y and anus mundi". This i s true of a l l the Alexandrians,

not because they are Alexandrians but because they are men and women.

The heightened Gothicism of the environment with i t s juxtaposed p o l a r i ­

t i e s of pleasure and pain i s not geographical; i t "begins and ends i n

us". The "real"Alexandria i s "a shabby l i t t l e seaport town b u i l t upon

a sand-reef, a moribund and s p i r i t l e s s backwater". (C_, p. 103) It i s

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a town of "harsh circumscribed contours", not of unfathomed mystery;

i t s inhabitants are "wicked, pleasure-loving" but they are also "un-

romantic". (M, p. 154) Cavafy dealt with t h i s problem of the inner

and outer Alexandria, and h i s crimes too are blamed on the c i t y :

i . i T r a v e l l e r , you w i l l not blame, If Alexandrian, You know the passion Of our l i f e here, the pleasure and the flame. 1

But t h i s i s i l l u s o r y , and i n "The C i t y " , which D u r r e l l quotes, he

warns himself not to believe he can escape from the place which torments

him:

. . .Ah! can you not see How just as your whole l i f e you've spoiled In t h i s one spot, you've ruined i t s worth Everywhere now over the whole earth?

( J , p. 181)

E x p l i c a t i n g t h i s poem, P h i l i p Sherrard f i n d s that the poet "himself

i s the c i t y from which h i s romanticism tempts him to f l e e ... A l l i t s

waste and rottenness i s but a r e f l e c t i o n of (his) own condition ....

hi s task now as a poet ... i s to make a myth of that C i t y which i s h i s

own c o n d i t i o n " . 2 Forster says that Cavafy, l i k e the Elizabethans, i s

singing "My mind to me a kingdom i s " , but Dyer's conventional poetic

kingdom i n Cavafy has acquired the unsavoury c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of a " r e a l "

kingdom subject to mutinies and war. 3 It i s the old microcosm-macrocosm

concept, man and universe as mutual mirrors.

D u r r e l l ' s Alexandrians have to correct t h e i r maps to relocate

Alexandria i n an inner kingdom. At the end of Balthazar, i t i s becom­

ing evident that the p o s s i b i l i t y of "a new Alexandria" depends on the

i'^Tomb of Iases", p. 82.

2The Marble Threshing-Floor, pp. 87, 89.

3Pharos, p. 93.

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selves which make i t , and that to understand Alexandria i s to come

closer to "'self-possession"'. (B_, pp. 242 -243; 236 - 237) Pursewarden

t e l l s Darley to think of himself as a "sleeping c i t y " , and Darley comes

to think that the destruction of h i s private Alexandria was necessary

because his private c i t y i s merely an e f f u s i o n of the mind. ( J , p. 139;

B, p. 220) Discovering the t r u t h about the c i t y w i l l reveal t r u t h about

himself, "carry me a l i t t l e f u r t h e r ; i n what i s r e a l l y a search f o r my

proper s e l f " . (B, p. 226) Like Arnauti, he "pierced the hard banausic

s h e l l of Alexandria and discovered himself", because the outward aura

of Alexandria i s a creation of the s e l f . (J_, p. 76) F i n a l l y , when

Darley and Clea achieve artisthood, they speak of t h e i r new power to

act and Create as a r e v e l a t i o n of the "secret landscape", a view of

the inner s e l f h i t h e r t o hidden.

Alexandria i s a landscape of the mind as a mirror of the uncon­

scious, and also as a telescope of time. It i s several times c a l l e d

"the c a p i t a l of memory". (J , p. 189; p. 11; Cor, pp. 303 - 304)

Nothing i n D u r r e l l ' s Alexandria i s allowed to become dead past. Qeopatra

i s a potent force s t i l l . She i s the princess and whore, the c i t y

i t s e l f and hence part of the secret nature of the s e l f of e i t h e r sex.

Even the most u n l i k e l y women seem to be i d e n t i f i e d with her. Justine's

dark and imperious passion i s c o n t i n u a l l y reminiscent of the queen.

But the gentler Clea and Melissa are both, i n metaphor, baled up and

delivered to Caesar. ( J , p. 56; C_, p. 253) Both instances - Darley's

f i r s t meeting with Melissa and h i s saving of Clea's l i f e - mark new

beginnings and r e b i r t h s . The reuse of the simile underscores Darley's

127

fesLing that he found Clea at the same time and place as he had found

Melissa; two contemporary times and time long past are l i n k e d .

Men of the present f e e l the coexistence of the past. Darley sees

h i s own h i s t o r y as part of the h i s t o r i c a l f a b r i c of the place ( J , p. 190)

He cannot at f i r s t respond to l i f e as an i n d i v i d u a l , but seems to be

subject to the nonhuman Alexandrian w i l l . But he comes to see that

t h i s Alexandria i s somewhere within "the human estate" 7, and that i s

where the d i r e c t i n g w i l l resides; "the seeds of future events are

c a r r i e d within ourselves". (C, p. 223) As he comes to terms with

the personal meaning of time, he t a l k s about the "continuous present,

which i s the r e a l h i s t o r y of that c o l l e c t i v e anecdote, the human

mind". (C, p. 14) The oneness of h i s t o r i c a l time i s a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c

of the human race. The c i t y , a habitat of memories, could accommodate

the memories of A l i c e ' s looking-glass, which go forward as well as

back. It "moves not only backwards in t o our h i s t o r y , studded by the

great names which mark every s t a t i o n of recorded time, but also back

and f o r t h i n the l i v i n g present". (B, p. 151)

The u n i f i e d s e l f , which the Alexandrian i s seeking, can be i n

a way p a r a l l e l e d by the u n i f i e d h i s t o r y of Alexandria:

It seemed that past and present had joined again without any d i v i s i o n s i n i t , that a l l my memories and impressions had ordered themselves i n t o one complete pattern, whose metaphor was always the shining c i t y of the d i s i n h e r i t e d .

(C, p. 91)

The c o l l e c t i v e Alexandria i s strangely manifested i n Nessim*s

L i o n e l T r i l l i n g comments: What we of Europe and America c a l l the past i s part of Alexandria's actual present". (World, p. 61) Cf. "an environment that brought him i n t o touch with h i s forbears and h i s successors i n time". Ernest Rhys. Romance (New YorkJ 1913), p. 5

128

h i s t o r i c a l dreams, a merger of " h i s past and the c i t y ' s " . (J, pp. 175,

176) Much that i s not e x p l i c i t l y connected with s e t t i n g as such i s

"Alexandrian" i n that i t i s concerned with dark and timeless mysteries

which seem to have always been the objects of p a r t i c u l a r study i n the

c i t y . Forster speaks of the "usual Alexandrian problem - the l i n k i n g

up of God and man".1 D u r r e l l has remarked that "from an imaginative

point of view Alexandria i s the hinge of our whole C h i i s t i a n c u l t u r e " . 2

It has been a c i t y where people probe i n t o physics and metaphysics,

science and i n t r o s p e c t i o n , i n a l l ways the appropriate environment f o r

D u r r e l l ' s s e l f - s i c k characters. It i s not that the c i t y has a malignant

w i l l which i t forces upon them, but that the t r a d i t i o n a l Alexandria

mental climate i s a r e f l e c t i o n of t h e i r own inner disease.

Because t h i s has been the way of Alexandria, or of the idea of

Alexandria, since i t s founding, a way of thinking and l i v i n g i n which

Cleopatra and the Septuagint were not f a r separated, i t i s a set t i n g

f o r a novel demonstrating the rela t i v e n e s s of psychological time.

Nessim i s what Wyndham Lewis dubbed a "time-tripper", analagous to

"glo b e - t r o t t e r " :

For what i s the basis of these new journeys or t r a v e l s i n time? Where do they occur? They occur, of course, i n s i d e the head - that i s where the time-tracts l i e - the region of memory and imagination as opposed to 'matter*. It i s i n short a mental and psychologic world. 3

Lewis quotes Whitehead's phrase "mental climate" which would be the

-'-Alexandria, p. 70

2 K n e l l e r Tape, World, p. 168

3,Time and Western Man, pp. 258 - 259. Lewis's i t a l i c s .

129

only climate for' a landscape of the mind. 1

D u r r e l l i s putting himself i n the t r a d i t i o n of Alexandrian

romance l i t e r a t u r e . Heliodorus's E t h i o p i c s i s a polyphonic narrative

of i n t r i c a t e time sequences, narrated by various reminiscing characters

a l l of whom are ignorant of some aspect of t h e i r narrative; and t e l l s

of the incest of Cnemon and Demaeneta, the r i v a l r y of the brothers

Thysmis and Pelorus, the contrast of a f a i r maid and a dark lady,and

a search f o r a l o s t c h i l d ; and discourses on love as a malady. Each

of these points of technique or theme has a p a r a l l e l i n the Quart e t .

A c h i l l e s T a t i u s T s Clitopho and,Leucippe i s another story of the love

disease, including a pathetic homosexual love and a d e s c r i p t i o n of

"the celebrated c i t y of A l e x a n d r i a " ; 2 Lucius Apuleius was Brother

Ass long before Darley, and Theocritus* F i f t e e n t h Idyl describes

l i f e i n the Greek Quarter of A l e x a n d r i a . 4 D u r r e l l wrote a poem

"*"cf. Wallace Steven's "Crude Foyer":

That there l i e s at the end of thought A foyer of the s p i r i t i n a landscape Of the mind, i n which we s i t And wear humanity's bleak crown.

• • • .... since we know that we use Only the eye as f a c u l t y , that the mind Is the eye, and that t h i s landscape of the mind

Is a landscape only of the eye. i n Oscar Williams, ed. A L i t t l e Treasurey of Modern Poetry,

p. 184. Note also Forster's p r a c t i c e i n h i s books on Alexandria of describing both past and present features of a given s i t e , because the past features are often thought of as though s t i l l to be seen.

2Heliodorus, Tatius and Longus are i n Greek Romances.

3The Golden Asse (London: Abbey L i b r a r y , undated)

4 F o r s t e r , Alexandria, p. 35.

130

about Longus's Daphnis and Chloe, and sang t h e i r praises while s t e e r ­

ing a d i l a p i d a t e d car around a Greek p r e c i p i c e i n a storm, with a

nervous Henry M i l l e r by h i s s i d e . 1 It would seem a question whether

D u r r e l l i s doing something new with the novel or whether he i s doing •

something very old indeed, a pre-novel comedy of confused i d e n t i t i e s

and inbred passions.

The s p e c i a l character of love i n Alexandria (e.g. M, p. 193)

l i n k s two images tof the s e l f : the lover and the landscape. Mountolive

and L e i l a have an e s p e c i a l l y geographical love. They are i n a sense

England and Egypt loving and leaving each other. But the metaphor

has a wider a p p l i c a t i o n , or perhaps "deeper" i s a more accurate word.

L e i l a i s Egypt, at f i r s t because she and the country share a romantic

a l l u r e f o r the young Englishman; l a t e r because "she represented some­

thing l i k e a second, almost mythical image of r e a l i t y which he was

experiencing, expropriating day by day". (M, pp. 147 - 148) His r e l a ­

t i o n to her i s the "psychic meaning" of Egypt f o r h i s own inner M f e .

He has to break with her and hence with Egypt, to know himself and

"come of age" as Darley does. It i s "a puberty of the f e e l i n g s which

had to be outgrown". (M, pp. 274 - 275) He repeats the name "Egypt"

as i f i t were the name of a woman.(M, p. 12) Egypt has never been

separate from the women and men who have l i v e d there: Antony too

was "dying, Egypt, dying". 2 In a c i t y where people search f o r t h e i r

selves, a woman who explores and e x p l o i t s the passions becomes a

p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n of the c i t y . L e i l a i s l e s s spectacular, perhaps, than

•••Miller, The Colossus of Maroussi (New York, 1958), p. 216.

2Antony IV. i i , 42.

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Justine or Cleopatra, but she performs d r a s t i c experiments with the

hearts and minds of Mountolive, her sons and her husband. Even her

physical features are described as. i f they were those of the environ­

ment and her ruined beauty resembles "a f a m i l i a r landscape blown up",

(M, p. 56)

Writing of Justine, Darley says, "A c i t y becomes a world when

one loves one of i t s inhabitants". ( J , p. 63) The c i t y and world

are seen i n the l i g h t of one's own passions, as an image of the s e l f .

Later, of Clea, he again writes, "When you are.in.love with one. of i t s

inhabitants a c i t y can become a world. A whole.new geography of

Alexand±ia was born through Clea ... a new h i s t o r y ... a new biography

to replace the old one". (C, pp. 228 - 229) It i s a new time and a

new place, but i t i s also the same place, and i n terms o f . p a r t i c u l a r .

emotions, the same time; i t i s a rearrangement.

Alexandria's surroundings, apart from the archetypal sea, are

the desert, a place of mirage and the lake, a place of r e f l e c t i o n s .

Lake Mareotis i s continually described as a mirror or as an eye (B, pp.

22, 151 - 152; "Mareotis:, P_, p. 33; "Conon i n Alexandria," P_, p. 92).

It i s an image of the r e f l e c t i o n , perceiver, perception and perceived

i n one. The c a r n i v a l f i g u r e s i n the l o n e l i n e s s and stagnation of t h e i r

anguished selves are compared to Mareotis, "a dead brackish lake surrounded

by the s i l e n t unjudging, wide-eyed desert under a dead moon" (B_, p. 201)

Deep waters of the s e l f are swampy and motionless i n a context of uncom­

mitted emptiness, requiring a decision and act of w i l l . 1

"*-An i r r e s i s t i b l e but perhaps i r r e l e v a n t comparison might be made with the f a n t a s t i c landscape of the mind i n JJR.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, which concerns a war of w i l l s , a b a t t l e against per-s o n i f i e d nightmares, a contrast of white and dark f i g u r e s . In R i v e n d e l l , "Time doesn't seem to pass here: i t just i s " . I p. 243) A s i m i l a r sensation i s experienced i n Lorien, where G a l a d r i e l ' s magic mirror r e f l e c t s past, present, or future without i n d i c a t i n g wh i ch.

132

B. Greece

"The bright, looking-glass world of Greece" i s Gerald D u r r e l l ' s

d e s c r i p t i o n of the i s l a n d to which h i s brother transplanted him. 1

When Lawrence D u r r e l l ' s protagonist leaves Alexandria f o r Greece, he

i s s t i l l i n A l i c e ' s world, and the r e f l e c t i o n becomes clearer f o r

the move away from the object. It i s during h i s f i r s t stay on h i s

Aegean i s l a n d that Darley learns of the other views of h i s own story

and f i t s them i n t o the context of h i s memories. During h i s second

stay, he f i n d s himself as an a r t i s t and a man, who can create and

act.

D u r r e l l ' s three t r a v e l books and many poems about Greece are

added testimony to the looking—glass q u a l i t y o f the country, e s p e c i a l l y

the i s l a n d s with the sea to c l a r i f y the image. The landscape i s a

" l i v i n g eye" which seems to perceive i t s e l f , as the human inner eye

i s to perceive i t s e l f : "Nowhere else has there ever been a land­

scape so aware of i t s e l f , conforming so marvellously to the dimensions

of human existence". (PC, p. 131)

Rank pict u r e s the Greek standing f i r m l y upon the ground, not under

i t l i k e the Egyptian buried i n h i s own depths, or above i t l i k e the

C h r i s t i a n . 2 This clear-eyed view of things i s offered to the wanderer:

"Other countries may o f f e r you discoveries i n manners or l o r e or land­

scape; Greece o f f e r s you something harder - the discovery of yourself".

(PC, p. 11) M i l l e r on Rhodes found that the Greeks "brought me face to

face with myself, they cleansed me of hatred and j e a l o u s l y and envy.

1My Family and Other Animals, p. 18

2 p . 1 4 6 .

3 Colossus, p. 210 .

133

Greece puts one in t o r i g h t r e l a t i o n s h i p s with one's s e l f and with

others.

Greece completes the " e l i m i n a t i o n " of time, f o r the past that

i s present here i s not only h i s t o r i c past, but a mythological past,

somehow evident i n the appearance of objects i n the landscape. (PC,

p. 59) Aware of the war encroaching on the i s l a n d , and of i t s

expression of man's fte&jr of l i f e , Darley senses the presence of the

"ol d dark gods" i n t h e i r natural habitat "forever s i t e d i n the huaan

wish" and undaunted by mechanised man. (C, p. 274)

C. England

T r a v e l , D u r r e l l says i n B i t t e r Lemons (p. 15) i s "one of the

most rewarding forms of i n t r o s p e c t i o n " . In The Dark Labyrinth, he

adds that t r a v e l i s "an outward symbol of an inward march upon

r e a l i t y " , (p. 59)

" R e a l i t y " i s sought i n Alexandria and found i n Greece. Alexandria

i s a " r e a l " c i t y , because i t deals with the depths and labyrinths of the

human s e l f . The "unreal c i t y " i s the c a p i t a l of the wasteland where

people deal i n s u p e r f i c i a l i t i e s and lose contact with themselves and

t h e i r dark gods. This i s the s i t e of the "English death", which

haunts D u r r e l l through a l l h i s w r i t i n g s , including h i s l e t t e r s (e.g.

BB, p. 105). Mountolive has been "educated not to wish to f e e l " ,

but to believe that "to love was absurd, l i k e being knocked o ff the

mantelpiece". (M, pp. 18 - 19) This p a r a l y s i s , which i s l i k e a death,

separates western man from himself. He refuses to acknowledge the dark

gods and t h e i r beauty, to "come to terms with (his) own human obscenity".

(M, p. 63) In " C i t i e s , P l a i n s and People" D u r r e l l goes "To the prudish

134

c l i f f s and the sad green home/Of Pudding Island o'er the V i c t o r i a n

foam". (P, p.136) Pursewarden puts t h i s i n p o l i t i c a l terms to

explain the B r i t i s h weakness on Egypt as a los s of "the basic power

to act", and t h i s i s true on an i n d i v i d u a l l e v e l also (M, p. 103).

England i s part of the selves of D u r r e l l and h i s characters - Darley,

Pursewarden, Mountolive - and i t s unrealness leaves incomplete t h e i r

r e c o n c i l i a t i o n with themselves. Pursewarden therefore thinks of

home with regret and r e v u l s i o n . (M, p. 161) England too i s a

" r i t u a l landscape". (M, p. 94) Pursewarden, L i z a and Mountolive

celebrate Blake's birthday by walzing i n Trafalgar Square, a t r i b u t e

to two heroes of the r e a l , not-dead England (M, pp. 66 - 67; see also

"A Ballad of the Good Lord Nelson", i n Williams's L i t t l e Treasury of

Modern Poetry, p. 733) , 1

Between the points of D u r r e l l ' s compass i s the sea: A t l a n t i c ,

Mediterranean, Aegean. To discuss the impl i c a t i o n s , obvious and

po s s i b l e , of the immersion i n water, the journey by water and under-water, 2

and r e b i r t h from water, i s beyond the scope of t h i s paper.

•'-A study of Nelson as a symbol of what the English could and should be, might begin with D u r r e l l ' s "Ballad", the scene i n T r a f algar Square and Pursewarden's comment about Emma (M, p. 65). In "Epilogue i n Alexandria", i n Prospero's C e l l s i g h t l e s s Pharos reminds D u r r e l l of Nelson. Gerald D u r r e l l r e ­c a l l s a c h i l d i s h v i s i o n of Nelson as a bird-watcher. (My Family, pp. 64 - 65) Compare with these: Charles Morgan's essay on Nelson i n R e f l e c t i o n s , Second Series (pp. 177 - 184); Forster's d e s c r i p t i o n of the B a t t l e of the N i l e (Alexandria, p. 92); references to Nelson i n M e l v i l l e ' s novels and s t o r i e s ; Noyes's "Admirals A l l " , because even here i t i s Nelson's impudent d i s ­obedience which makes him a hero; Shaw's note to Caesar and Cleo-patra; Aldous Huxley's short story "Happily Ever A f t e r " , Robert Grave's poem "1805".

^There are various Alexandrian r e b i r t h s : of Darley, Clea, Balthazar, Semira, Scobie-El Scob, Nessim, Nessim's daughter, Justine, C a p o d i s t r i a .

135

I s h a l l therefore only mention the importance of water as a symbol

i n i t s own r i g h t i n the Alexandrian Quartet. It i s part of the sym­

b o l i c landscape, and of one version of the mirror of Narcissus.

Darley t r a v e l s across i t to h i s times of r e v e l a t i o n i n Greece and

plunges i n t o i t when Clea's accident forces him i n t o action: " i t was

as i f I were f o r the f i r s t time confronting myself - or perhaps an a l t e r

ego shaped a f t e r a man of action I had never r e a l i z e d , recognised". (C,

p. 249) The s e l f meets the s e l f and becomes mobile, out of the "shark-

in f e s t e d seasuof love", changed into"something r i c h and strange". (M,

P. 172)

CHAPTER VII: Conclusion: Time and the Heraldic Universe

At the end of Justine, Darley wonders "whether these pages record

the actions of r e a l human beings; or whether t h i s i s not simply the

story of a few inanimate objects which p r e c i p i t a t e d drama around them -

I mean a black patch, a green f i n g e r s t a l l , a watch-key, and a couple

of dispossessed wedding-rings". ( J , p. 245) The objects appear and r e ­

appear at various points i n the t e t r a l o g y , as part of the immediate

scene and also as bearers of i m p l i c a t i o n and associations not a r t i c u l a t e d

but somehow conveyed by the.substantial existence of the thing: Capodis-

t r i a ' s black patch, by which Justine recognizes her ravisher and which

preshadows Nessim's p a r t i a l b linding; Justine's green r i n g which onee be­

longed to a p r e h i s t o r i c prince and which Toto wears at c a r n i v a l the night

of h i s murder; Balthazar's watch-key, the l o s t key to the nature of

time and the secret of Justine; the wedding-rings Melissa never used.

Each suggests a l s o more truths and p o s s i b i l i t i e s attached to the object.

These four objects reduce to i t s simplest terms D u r r e l l ' s system

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of what must be c a l l e d "symbolism"" f o r want of a better name, a m u l t i ­

p l i c i t y of connotations. The mirror becomes a metaphor f o r a l l the

objects, i n c l u d i n g , as well as the tangible things, the l i n k s between

persons, the a t t i t u d e s of persnns to things. No matter what the

Alexandrian looks at, he sees himself and an image of h i s r e l a t i o n to

himself, to the object and to the world around him.

D u r r e l l and Pursewarden t a l k about the "Heraldic Universe", a

concept which describes the i n t e r a c t i o n i n i n f o l d i n g a simultaneously

inner and outer narrative held together by these recurrent objects and

events. D u r r e l l ' s use of the word " h e r a l d i c " i s e s s e n t i a l l y the usual

one, and he i s not f a r from l i o n s rampant and bars s i n i s t e r :

. . . i n Heraldry the object i s used i n an emotive and a f f e c t i v e sense - s t a t i c a l l y to body f o r t h or u t t e r : not as a v i c t i m of description.

The Heraldic Universe i s that t e r r i t o r y of experience i n which the symbol e x i s t s - as opposed to the emblem or badge, which are the ch i l d r e n of algebra and s u b s t i t u t i o n . 1

The h e r a l d i c device i s not just a sign of something; i t i s the organic

embodiment of something, a way of expressing an i d e a l , an intent, an

awareness of past and future. The l i o n prowling about the jungle

i s the h e r a l d i c l i o n long before he appears on a royal standard. The

majesty and the power are i n him, the r e a l l i o n . He embodies h i s

h e r a l d i c meaning; he does not a r b i t r a r i l y "stand f o r " something as

an emblem may.

Objects, places and persons are not merely described i n the

Alexandrian Quartet. Emotively, suggestively and even i n t e l l e c t u a l l y

l-Durrell i n Personal Landscape, quoted by Stanford, World, p. 40.

137

they " u t t e r " something. Hence, as we have seen, a street scene i n

Alexandria i s also a scene i n the inner l i v e s of the people on the

st r e e t . Hence also, the purple passages of de s c r i p t i o n are f u n c t i o n a l ,

and t h e i r richness t e s t i f i e s to the texture of psychic and physical

experience. Pursewarden exclaims, "Symbolism! the abbreviation of

the language i n t o poem. The h e r a l d i c aspect of r e a l i t y ! " (C_, p. 137)

Scattered instances of people gazing i n t o mirrors suggest as much as

many pages of tortured d i d a c t i c i s m about the inversion of the modern

s e l f ; thus, the symbol abbreviates language. But these are also r e a l ,

not metaphorical mirrors i n the context of the na r r a t i v e , and t h i s

r e a l i t y i s h e r a l d i c . D u r c e l l i s not doing anything r a d i c a l l y new i n

t h i s respect. The s c h o l a s t i c i n s i s t e d that the "symbol" was the thing

i t s e l f and not the a r t i s t ' s representation of i t . The r e a l lamb baa­

ing out i n the f i e l d was a symbol of Chr i s t ; God made h i s own symbolism.

As Groddeck says, "Symbols are not invented; they are there and hence

belong to the i n a l i e n a b l e estate of man . Again, as i f to support

D u r r e l l on the abbreviation of language, he explains:

It i s impossible f o r anyone to express t r u t h of t h i s sort i n words, f o r i t i s imagery, symbol, and the symbol cannot be spoken. It l i v e s and we are l i v e d by i t , one can only use words that are indeterminate and vague. 2

Gerald Sykes points out that when D u r r e l l employs r e a l i s t i c d e t a i l s ,

which he does everywhere, "he i s always looking beneath them f o r the

archetypal beauty they conceal". 3

1 p . 89.

2 p . 242.

3World, p. 153.

138

The h e r a l d i c approach becomes a way of l i f e , as well as a way

of a r t , f o r i t d i r e c t s D u r r e l l ' s n o n - f i c t i o n as much as i t does h i s

f i c t i o n and poetry. Describing the personal meaning of Greece, he

speaks of "the symbol married to the object prime", another way of

meaning that the r e a l thing i s the symbol, and goes on to i l l u s t r a t e :

"a cypress t r e e , a mask, an orange, a plough were extended beyond them­

selves i n t o an e t e r n a l i t y they enjoyed only with the f u r n i t u r e of a l l

good poetry". (MV, p. 179) Reflections on a Marine Venus i s a f a c t u a l

d e s c r i p t i o n of Rhodes, yet here he i s t a l k i n g about symbolism and

poetry, f i n d i n g , i n f a c t , books i n the running brooks. Art makes

"sudden raids on the i n a r t i c u l a t e " , shaping "a preserving Heraldic

structure". (Cor, p. 203) The a r t i s t makes a l i t t l e h e r a l d i c universe,

the real-symbolic structure of which i s a r e a l symbol of the outer

Heraldic Universe. As a creator and an active exerciser of the w i l l ,

the a r t i s t creates himself i n the irqge of the Creator and h i s art i n

h i s own image, and then i s open to the charge of cosmic presumption.

The Heraldic Universe i s a system of hinged mirrors, i n which

inner s e l f and outer world r e f l e c t each other, and one s e l f and another

s e l f , creator and creation, microcosm and macrocosm. The r e s u l t i n g

m u l t i p l i c i t y of viewpoint i s bewildering. Clea says, "You have to be

f a i t h f u l to your angle of v i s i o n , and at the same time f u l l y recognize

i t s p a r t i a l i t y " . (C, p. 120) One must f i n d or create one's own s e l f

i n r e l a t i o n t o other selves and to a whole. In everything, one can see

r e f l e c t e d truths about oneself, cluesto i t s nature, but to see only that

and look f o r only that i s to f i n d only a p a r t i a l symbol and ignore the

object i n i t s r e a l i t y . Clea's statement implies the necessity of r e a l i -

139

zing the p o s s i b i l i t y of other angles of v i s i o n . The thing to do,

as Norman Douglas's Caloveglia advises, i s "externalize y o u r s e l f " . 1

Balthazar, preaching from the Cabbala, urges the Alexandrians

to look outward i n order to f i n d what i s inward, to "discover har­

monies i n space and time which corresponded to the inner structure

of t h e i r own psyches". The perception of s e l f i s not the f i n a l end;

i t i s to be placed i n the context of the one, a u n i f i e d s e l f r e f l e c t ­

ing a u n i f i e d a l l , and t h i s includes everything i n the symbolic world.

"We are e n l i s t i n g everything i n order to make man's wholeness match

the wholeness of the universe". ( J , p. 100) Because "everything"

includes "the destructive granulation of the mind i n pleasure", the

s i n i s t e r side of Alexandria i s also a r e f l e c t i n n of the s e l f , the

Sadean subconscious, and the "pleasure" i s not always "pleasant", as

Balthazar's own degradation shows. E v i l i s included, i s perhaps

necessary, as the epigraph to Clea i n s i s t s : "The primary and most

b e a u t i f u l of Nature's q u a l i t i e s i s motion, which ... i s conserved

by means of crimes alone". 2

This oneness of s e l f and nonself and universe and object and

pleasure and pain and good and e v i l i s also i m p l i c i t i n D u r r e l l ' s

treatment of time. In the Key to Modern Poetry, he wrote: "Time

and the ego are the two determinants of s t y l e f o r the twentieth cen­

tury", (p. 117) The two determinants are two ways of looking at

the drive towards "the symbolic act of j o i n i n g what i s separated", an

act encouraged by two of D u r r e l l ' s textbooks, the theory of r e l a t i -

1South Wind (New York, 1925), p. 174

2quoted from Sade, c f . : "I have discovered myself, while thinking of crime, while surrendering to i t , or just a f t e r having executed i t " . Crime i s compared with sexual pleasure as an a f f e c t i v e and revelatory f o r c e . Sade, Justine, p. 261.

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v i t y and the Cabballa:: '"it i s important to r e a l i z e that E i n s t e i n ' s

theory joined up subject and object, i n very much the same way as i t

joined up space and time". (Key, p. 26) Heraldry expressed the sym­

bolism of ages i n a s p a t i a l arrangement of objects, and t h i s i s akin

to D u r r e l l ' s arrangement of events i n the Quartet. E a r l y i n h i s

career, he explained:

But what I am t r y i n g to i s o l a t e i s the exact moment of creation, i n which the maker seems to exist h e r a l d i c a l l y . That i s to say, time as a concept does not e x i s t , but only as an a t t r i b u t e of matter - decay, growth, etc. In that sense then, i t must be memoryless.

(Cor, p. 23)

D u r r e l l remarks that t h i s does not seem clear even to himself, but i t

does hint at the nature of time as i t evolves i n the Quartet. This

i s time as i t i s f o r the creator, whether he i s creating art or

creating a s e l f . It i s the "order of the imagination" which i s "not

that of memory" because the imagination i s timeless. (B, p. 225; BB,

p. 59) To c a l l again upon paradox: the imagination i s timeless be­

cause i t includes a l l time i n an archetypal moment. The a r t i s t as

myth-maker i s part of the mythmaking imagination of the race. His

time i s "memoryless" because i t i s simultaneous rather than chrono­

l o g i c a l . Time as decay, growth, mutability, "an a t t r i b u t e of matter"

does e x i s t , and the Alexandrians change with age, but tb.isi;time i s not

a cosmological force. It i s simply part of the functioning of l i v i n g

things on t h i s planet. So the Trumans i n The Dark Labyrinth lose a l l

sense of time, and also f i n d t h e i r l i f e regulated by the change of

season. The only time which e x i s t s i s a c y c l i c process, returning

always " i n a gingle unlaboured GDntyinuum".. ("At S t r a t i ' s " , J?, p. 22)

141

The universe, l i k e a h e r a l d i c pattern, i s a s p a t i a l arrangement and

disarrangement. Pursewarden says: "The symbolism contained i n form

and pattern i s only a frame of reference through which, as i n a

mirror, one may glimpse the idea of a universe at r e s t , a universe-

i n love with i t s e l f " . (C, p. 143) The work of art i s a he r a l d i c de­

sign, r e f l e c t i n g the unive r s a l h e r a l d i c pattern, and the i n d i v i d u a l

s e l f f i n d s i n the universe a r e f l e c t i o n of i t s own s e l f - l o v e and

d i s i n c l i n a t i o n to acti o n . But the s e l f has to exist i n r e l a t i o n to

other selves and as a part of a t o t a l i t y , whereas the "universe"

(in the sense which would include a l l p a r t i c u l a r "universes".) i s the

t o t a l i t y , complete i n i t s e l f and not r e l a t i v e to any other equivalent

being. The love of the One must therefore be a s e l f - l o v e , but t h i s

s e l f - l o v e i s f r u i t f u l and from i t emanates a l l c r e a t i o n . 1 Individual

love, on the other hand, to be f r u i t f u l must turn outward, to j o i n

with other selves i n a cosmic addition, the sum of which i s One.

The universe i s r e l a t i v e not to equals but to i t s components,

It r e f l e c t s i t s e l f i n a macrocosmic system of mirrors, some of them

t r i c k mirrors, some d i s t o r t e d , each giving the image i n a glass darkly,

because only p a r t i a l l y . At the end of Clea, a f t e r the major problems

of the Quartet have apparently been resolved, D u r r e l l hands us a l i s t

of "workpoints", suggesting new developments of the story and new angles

of r e f l e c t i o n .. One can never quite assimilate a l l the facets of the

uni v e r s a l prism. D u r r e l l ' s Alexandria i s a mirror of t h i s prism and

the Alexandrians a mirror of ourselves within i t .

Forster, Alexandria, pp. 70 - 73.

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APPENDIX

Alexandria and Arcadia: D u r r e l l as an Elizabethan

I admit to having 'Elizabethanized'; I d e l i b e r a t e l y selected crude material f o r the job. And t r i e d to say that l i f e i s r e a l l y an a r t i s t i c problem, a l l men being sleeping a r t i s t s . 1

The concept of the "Elizabethan" has a p a r t i c u l a r s i g n i f i c a n c e

fo r D u r r e l l and f o r the form and the content of h i s work. He f i n d s

i n the l i t e r a t u r e of that period an "enormous range of f e e l i n g ...

from the utmost v u l g a r i t y and bawdy to the greatest d e l i c a c y , sophis­

tication, and refinement", a c o a l i t i o n of bawdry and tenderness, and

attempts too produce a s i m i l a r range of f e e l i n g i n h i s Quartet. (Young,

P. 66)

The Black Book frequently e x p l o i t s the Elizabethan a l l u s i o n

(e.g. p. 48) and Gregory l i k e s to compare h i s dark soul to that of

a character from Tourneur or Marston. (pp. 40 - 41, 53. "Elizabethan"

includes "Jacobean".) The t i t l e suggests Robert Greenes The Black

Bookes Messenger, i n which Greene promises a "Black Book" which

apparently does not m a t e r i a l i z e , remaining a possible catalogue of

possible crimes. In Gregory's l i b r a r y , the narrator seeks another

such mysterious volume: "But where i s the Black Book - that r e p o s i ­

tory f o r a l l the uncut gems of creation?" (p. 197)

Pursewarden i n D u r r e l l ' s Justine mentions the Elizabethan

capacity f o r "rude health, ordure, the natural and the funny". ( J ,

p. 116) This and Tourneur*s darkness suggest a willingness to look

Kneller Tape, World, p. 167.

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at various facets of human nature, to come to terms with one's own

obscenity. D u r r e l l ' s l a t e s t work, The I r i s h Faustus, i s again

Elizabethan-minded and makes important use of Marlow^s Doctor

Faustus.

Groddeck claims that the Renaissance marked the beginning i n

art of an excessive i n t e r e s t i n the exploration of the p e r s o n a l i t y . 1

Rank sees i n the same age the emergence of the i n d i v i d u a l a r t i s t type,

the genius as a s e l f , freed from the c o l l e c t i v e C h r i s t i a n i t y of the 9

Middle Ages. The Elizabethan begins to be interested i n the p o l a r i t i e s

of human nature and i n the analysis of the s e l f , both Alexandrian pre­occupations.

Sidney's Arcadia, from which I s h a l l draw most of my examples,

frequently resembles D u r r e l l ' s Quartet i n structure and m o t i f . 3 The

n a r r a t i v e does not proceed along a straight l i n e , but doubles back,

jumps ahead, becomes entangled. P l o t s , subplots and counterplots i n ­

terrupt each other. There are a number of narrators, whose reminis­

cences bring past events to the present; each of these has a d i f f e r e n t

viewpoint and sometimes the s t o r i e s are contradictory. The story, even

i f t o l d c h r o n o l o g i c a l l y , i s immensely complicated. Like the Alexandria

Quartet, i t deals with r e l a t i o n s h i p s , and the l i n e s of attachment cross

and recross i n a great multiple love a f f a i r including a l l kinds of love,

respectable and i l l i c i t .

The point of view s h i f t s , and what seems to be true i s not necess­

a r i l y so. Euarchus's decision and solemn speech near the end of the book

1pp. 61, 65.

2pp. 19, 24.

3The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia (London, 1907), hereafter abbreviated as A. ( A l l references w i l l be given i n my t e x t ) .

144

appear to be a u t h o r i t a t i v e and conclusive, but turn out to be mistaken.

How i s one to view Amphialus, who i s a v i l l a i n i n that he opposes the

heroes, but i s almost a t r a g i c f i g u r e i n h i s vain love and f r u i t l e s s

v i c t o r i e s ?

Sidney and D u r r e l l both mix motives, so that there i s sometimes

l i t t l e d i s t i n c t i o n between such apparently distant forces as love and

p o l i t i c s . Euarchus urges B a s i l i u s to resume actio n , because h i s p a r a l y ­

s i s i s bad f o r the state. But f o r B a s i l i u s , as f o r Mountolive, the need

f o r p o l i t i c a l a ction i s i n e x t r i c a b l y bound up with the p o s s i b i l i t y of

ac t i o n inward among h i s own emotions.

Both the Quartet and the Arcadia end with suggestions for possible

new developments, threads of the story that might be picked up and woven

in t o something. Commenting on the Arcadia, J . J . Jusserand finds "no

reason why i t should ever end"'.''" In the Black Book, D u r r e l l describes

the novel he plans to write as "something without beginning, something

which w i l l never end, but conclude only when i t has reached i t s own

genesis again: very, w e l l , a piece of l i t e r a r y perpetual motion", (p.

69)

John Untermecker, i n a review of The I r i s h Faustus says of

D u r r e l l ' s technique that he "drives h i s hero through melodramatic

adventures, spectacular confrontations, and desperate emotional

c r i s e s - a l l of which i n the long run reduce to nothing more nor l e s s

than the p a i n f u l process of s e l f - d i s c o v e r y " . 2 This i s what he has

done i n the Alexandria Quartet, and i t i s what Sidney does i n the Arcadia.

1The E n g l i s h Novel i n the Time of Shakespeare, (London, 1901) p. 254.

2Saturday Review, (March 21, 1964) p. 43.

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The mirror image i s important, e s p e c i a l l y the r e f l e c t i o n i n water with

i t s reminder of Narcissus, (e.g. A, pp. 11, 211, 178, 179) This image

i s a decoration more conventional than symbolic. Yet the whole Arcadia

i s a contrapuntal treatment of Narcissus's problems, the Alexandrian

f a s c i n a t i o n with the composition of one's s e l f . The Arcadians (the

characters of the book, not merely the c i t i z e n s of that state) play

dangerous games with t h e i r i d e n t i t i e s . The two heroes are i n disguise,

or rather, disguise-within-disguise, most of the book and the sham

character often seems to have a being of i t s own. Dorus the shepherd,

and, even.more, Zelmane the Amazon, do not always eeem the same as

Musidorus ;and Pyrocles. Besides these i n t e r n a l multiple-mirrors, the

two f r i e n d s mirror each other. The best of t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p i s

"the coupling of souls i n t h i s mutuality .. from whence he s h a l l be

sure to receive a sweet r e f l e c t i o n of the same joy, and, as i n a

clear mirror of sincere goodness, see a l i v e l y picture of h i s own

gladness", (p. 452. c f . "the glass of her own misery", p. 92)

Musidorus says theywere made "more l i k e than the likeness of a l l other

v i r t u e s , and ... more near one to the other than the nearness of t h e i r

blood could aspire i n t o " , (p. 157) Their friendship i s mirrored i n

the closeness of the two s i s t e r s whom they love. The s i b l i n g r e l a t i o n ­

ship, as i n D u r r e l l , i s anbther way of r e f l e c t i n g . The other as a

mirror of oneself i s therefore a s i g n i f i c a n t motif: f o r instance,

" h i s kindness i s a glass even to my b l i n d eyes of my naughtiness",

(p. 173) Note also the phenomenon of s i g h t l e s s sight. Dorus sings

of the s e l f reduced to the status of a mere r e f l e c t i o n of something

which belongs to othersr

146

Such weight i t hath; which once i s f u l l possess'd, That 1 become a v i s i o n ,

Which hath i n others held h i s only being, And l i v e s i n fancy seeing,

0 wretched state of man i n s e l f - d i v i s i o n j l

(p. 102)

The word "mirror' 1 has a double denotation. Besides the "looking-

glass", i t may r e f e r to a "pattern", a r e f l e c t i o n of the i d e a l . P h i l o -

clea c a l l s Pyrocles the "mirror of mankind", not because he i s merely

t y p i c a l or a r e f l e c t i o n of a l l men, but because he i s the pattern of

what men ought to be. (p. 481) In t h i s sense, "mirror" suggests the

r e f l e c t i o n not only of the present s e l f but also of the s e l f which

one i s s t r i v i n g to become.

Perhaps p a r t l y f o r t h i s reason, Arcadians and most characters

i n Elizabethan f i c t i o n are very conscious of art and poetry and of

themselves as works of art; hence the many occasional songs and

eclogues i n the Arcadia, and also the s e l f - s a t i r e i n Mopsa's t a l e of

romance (p. 199) and the conventional love song "My true love hath

my heart", followed by the burlesque "0 words which f a l l " , (p. 466)

In t h i s s p i r i t , Lodge's Rosalynde and Alinda c r i t i c i s e t h e i r lovers*

poems.2 D u r r e l l i s c o n t i n u a l l y concerned with the problems of art

and a r t i s t and d e l i b e r a t e l y comments on h i s own s t y l e (B_, p. 44) He

too i n j e c t s poetry i n t o the body of h i s novel: Pursewarden's poem

to L i z a and h i s shaving-mirror doggrell, quotations from Cavafy, Scobie's

j a z z tune.

J-For the lover as a mirror of h i s beloved c f . Gascoigne: "behold my wan cheeks washed i n woe, that therein my s a l t teares may be a myrrour to represent youre own shadow, and that l i k e unto Narcissus you may bee constrayned to kisse the cold waves wherein your counterfeit i s so l i v e l y portrayed". A Hundreth Sundrie Flowres (University of Missouri Studies, 1942) p. 54.

.V: 2Rosalynde (London, 1902).

147

D u r r e l l has made some comments on the r e l a t i o n of the Elizabethan

a r t i s t to the hero of h i s creation, a r e l a t i o n which turns out to be

another mirror of the s e l f . His example i s Hamlet, 1 which evidently

follows i t s own advice i n holding a mirror up to nature. D u r r e l l

sees the play as "a perfect picture of the inner struggle, done i n

terms of the outer one. .. a marvellous p i c t u r e of psychic and s o c i a l

d isorganisation i n an i n d i v i d u a l " , This disorganization of microcosm

and macrocosm i s also Sidney's subject; h i s conclusion i s not t r a g i c

because i t i s the correct happy ending f o r a romantic comedy, but the

conclusion which l o g i c a l l y a r i s e s from h i s picture of human nature i s

a c y n i c a l one. D u r r e l l suggests that Harilet's problem i s the problem of

modern England, e s p e c i a l l y as presented by Lawrence. Mistaken i d e a l ­

ism causes a r e c o i l from the r e a l . Since Marlowe, a r t i s t s have been

t r y i n g to turn the wheel back to "the p r e - g l a c i a l age when dung was

dung and angels were angels". (Cor, pp. 26 - 27) Arcadia and E l s i n o r e ,

as well as Alexandria, are maps of what the a r t i s t f i n d s i n the land­

scape of h i s mind. Otto Rank sees Hamlet as the type of the modern

hero who i s not a hero i n the c l a s s i c a l sense, but a representation

of the poet as a type, who has rejected the heroic r o l e and i s checked

i n h i s w i l l e d action so that h i s words achieve nothing. Hamlet i s the

"godfather of the thought-obstructed n e u r o t i c " . 2 Perhaps Prufrock i s

Prince Hamlet, a f t e r a l l . D u r r e l l ' s a r t i s t s also are checked by an

inner entanglement, but they break through, and turn art and a r t i s t

outward.

-'•Cecily Mackworth observes that " E l s i n o r e has a good deal i n common with Mr. D u r r e l l ' s Alexandria". World, p. 27.

2 A r t and A r t i s t , pp. 296, 333.

148

Elizabethan love does violence to the i d e n t i t i e s of the lo v e r s .

Musidorus accused, "But 0 love,, i t i s thou that does i t ; thou changest

name upon name; thou disguisest our bodies, and d i s f i g u r i s t our minds".

(p. 91) The love r e l a t i o n s h i p i s a complex of paradoxes, as i t i s i n

Alexandria, where the lover sees himself i n h i s loved one, but must

also r e a l i s e that she sees h e r s e l f i n him. The r e s u l t must be both

increased knowledge of oneself and increased turning outward, away

from the s e l f . Sidney's d e s c r i p t i o n of the b l i s s of Argalus and

Parthenia contains s u f f i c i e n t paradoxes f o r i l l u s t r a t i o n :

a happy couple, he joying i n her, she joying i n h e r s e l f , but i n h e r s e l f , because she enjoyed him: both increased t h e i r r u l e s by giving to each other; each making one l i f e double, because they made a double l i f e onej where desire never wanted s a t i s f a c t i o n , nor s a t i s f a c t i o n ever bred s a t i e t y ; he r u l i n g , because she would obey, or rather because she would obey, he ther e i n r u l i n g .

(p, 352)

There i s danger i n the mirror of love, that the i d e n t i t y of

r e f l e c t o r and r e f l e c t e d be excessive and become possession. Love

has the power to "transform the very essence of the lover i n t o the

thing loved, u n i t i n g , and, as i t were, incorporating i t with a secret

and inward working". The danger i s that love of a woman may "womanize"

a man. (p. 60) This i s i n fact what happens to Pyrocles, and the

womanizatinn has to be overcome before he can f i n a l l y win the woman

he loves.

The conventions of Elizabethan and pre-Elizabethan romance have

t h e i r place i n D u r r e l l ' s world.

Nessim, f o r instance, i s ref e r r e d to as a knight, a "c h e v a l i e r

sans peur", "Prince Nessim" (B, pp. 58 - 59; M, p. 194), but i n the

149

anti-romantic contexts of an indictment of the idea of love ("formed

i n the fragmented psyche of European man ... a l i t e r a t u r e of a f f e c t a ­

tion". B, p. 56) or of Clea's cool common sense. Pombal considers

"love" a "petrarchan obscenity" u n t i l he meets Fosca. The r e a l i t y

forhim i s paradoxical and also Petrarchan - "Perhaps t h i s very f r e e ­

dom keeps me i n prison?" i s almost Wyatt's contrarious passion "that

locks nor looseth, holdeth me i n p r i s o n " . 1 L i z a and Pursewarden have

t h e i r incestuous forerunners i n Webster's Duchess and Ferdinand, Ford's

Annabella and Giovanni, or even i n I s a b e l l a and Claudia or the twins

V i o l a and Sebastian.

In Arcadia, as i n Alexandria, there are at least f i v e sexes.

P^rocJeS'i-Ze'lmaB.iei^ . a man disguised as a woman, i s loved by a man, the

man's daughter and the man's wife. P h i l o c l e a asks him i f he has not

"some t h i r d sex l e f t you, to transform yourself i n t o " , (p. 501) The

disguise as a member of the opposite sex i s an ubiquitous device i n

Elizabethan comedy, with V i o l a and P o r t i a as notable examples, and

Logde's Rosalynde, l i k e Shakespeare's Rosalind, i s an "amorous g i r l e -

boy". 2 The disguise i s somehow inward as well as outward, the anony­

mous sex of the Alexandrian domino, "transform'd i n shew, but more

transform'd i n mind". (Arc, p. 58) Pyrocles and Musidorus must discard

t h e i r disguises of both mind and body before they can act according to

t h e i r own w i l l s , a rediscovery of themselves which i s to be effected

through love. P h i l o c l e a explains:

1C, pp. 41 - 42. Thomas Wyatt, "Description of the Contrarious Passions," i n The Concise Treasury of Great Poems, ed. Louis Untermeyer (New York, 1953), p. 38.

2 p . 140.

150

'One God hath metamorphosed both, the one i n a shepherd, the other i n a woman; and we only can restore them to themselves, and themselves to the world that they may grace i t with the glory of t h e i r actions as they were wont to do*. (p. 444)

D u r r e l l ' s Balthazar says that the Alexandrians pass around a

poisoned loving-cup, (G, pp. 266 - 267) and i n Arcadia there i s a

"cup of poison (which was deeply tasted of the whole company)" (p. 121)

Sickness and mutilation provide metaphors f o r the Elizabethans as they

do f o r D u r r e l l . D u r r e l l r e f e r s to the Elizabethans themselves as a

disease and says "Nash's prose i s one long dysentery of d e l i g h t " , but

he seems to f e e l t h i s i s a disease to be innoculated with, rather than

against

The Arcadians are frequently dismembered and dismembering, i n

bi z a r r e ways. A painter who i s not even p a r t i c i p a t i n g i n the b a t t l e

loses both hands (p. 256), a t a i l o r loses h i s nose and then h i s head

(p. 255), Parthenia i s d i s f i g u r e d by disease, but, unlike L e i l a ,

recovers her beauty, (pp. 25, 37)

But here too the worst disease i s love. Condemned most savagely

i n Shakespeare's Sonnet 129, i t fares l i t t l e better i n Sidney's hands.

It i s the "price of mangled mind", a loathsome disease which i n f e c t s

body and b r a i n . 2 Pyrocles claims that love "hath a sport sometimes

to poison me with roses, sometimes to heal me with wormwood", (p. 230)

It i s a disease which turns s u f f e r e r s i n t o hypochondriacs, intent on

t h e i r own f e e l i n g s and unwilling to be healed. The depths to which

Wyndham Lewis compares Nash's styfse with that of Joyce i n Finnegans Wake. (Time and Western Man, pp. 106, 107)

2Sonnet "Thou b l i n d man's mark", Renaissance Poetry, ed. Leonard Dean (New York, 1953), p. 51.

151

B a s i l i u s and Gynecia sink i n t h e i r pursuits of Zelmane-Pyrocles equal

Balthazar's i n f a t u a t i o n and prove that, as Vladimir Nabokov reminds us,

Dementia, as well as Death, i s even i n Arcady. 1 Lodge's Rosader com­

pl a i n s of "a r e s t l e s s sore, that hathno ease; a canker that s t i l l f r e t s ;

a dream that taketh away a l l hope of sleep".

Arcadia, l i k e Alexandria, i s e x p l i c i t l y spoken of as a map of the

inner condition, the habitat of beauty, (p. 400) But i t i s the whole

climate and geography of Arcadia as i t unfolds throughout the book

which i s t r u l y the landscape of the mind. It i s the conventional

Arcady of romance, with shepherds and shepherdesses galore, but with

a p a r t i c u l a r charm and an i l l u s i o n of timelessness. The shepherd's

boy pipes "as though he should never be o l d " , (p. 8) Darley i n h i s

Greek Arcady hears a "shepherd's dry f l u t e among the rocks". (B, p. 16)

It i s an i d y l l i c p astoral place of l i g h t and health. (Arc, pp. 42 - 43)

But i t becomes the scene of p o l i t i c a l upheaval, t e r r i b l e passions and

dark, unnatural deeds. In analogy, Pyrocles and Musiaiorus, and t h e i r

P h i l o c l e a and Pamela are young, strong and virtuous, and t h e i r loves

are good, healthy loves which are darkened by the passions and perver­

sions which seem to be set ablaze by t h i s very goodness. A map of t h e i r

" l i t t l e world" shows i t troubled with "unhabitable climes of cold des­

p a i r s and hot rages", (p. 127)

The I t a l y of Nash's Unfortunate T r a v e l l e r , with i t s secret v i o l ­

ence and f a t a l loves, might be l i k e Alexandria, a place of the unleashed

subconscious. It too i s a place of e v i l and f a s c i n a t i o n i n t o which the

^Lpale F i r e , p. 237. Also "Even i n Arcady am I, says/Death i n the bombal s c r i p t u r e , (p. 124)

2Rosalynde. p. 94.

152

t r a v e l l e r dives and from which he emerges i n t o the l i g h t of a healthy

love. The i n e v i t a b l e shipwreck brings Pyrocles and Musidorus to the

shores of Arcadia, with new i d e n t i t i e s f o r a new land. Water i s a

frequent symbol here, e s p e c i a l l y as Narcissus's mirror. P h i l o c l e a

i s described as "environed with sweet r i v e r s of clear v i r t u e " , (p. 392)

There i s something s t i l l and clear about her, gentle and patient and

i r o n - w i l l e d as she r e s i s t s enemies and unwanted l o v e r s . D u r r e l l

characterizes Clea as " s t i l l waters of pain", and gives her hal f of

Ph i l o c l e a * s name. The two epigraphs could almost be interchanged and

each would apply to both heroines. Despite t h e i r a d v e r s i t i e s , P h i l o ­

clea and Clea by t h e i r very presence i n t h e i r books, seem to guarantee

the r e s t o r a t i o n of order and c l a r i t y .

The landscape i s connected with memory; a place reminds men of

an event, but i t also i s the present embodiment of what seemed to be

past: "and here we f i n d that as our remembrance came everclothed

unto using the form of t h i s place, so t h i s place gives new heat to

the fever of our languishing remembrance", (p. 2) The remembrance

of things past i s not an enjoyable experience f o r the Elizabethans.

It i s an awareness of time, of "my dear times* waste", Shakespeare*s

Sonnet 30 laments, and Sidney l a b e l s i t "over-busy remembrance, remembrance,

r e s t l e s s remembrance", (p. 1) Time here, as i n Alexandria, i s c y c l i c

time, m u t a b i l i t y , a personal problem. B a s i l i u s has to come to times

with mutability; i t i s useless to plead: "Let not old age disgrace my

high desire", (p. 124) D u r r e l l makes h i s Conon say of Arcadia: "'There

i s no f e e l i n g of "therefore" i n i t . O r i g i n , reason, meaning i t has

none i n the sense of recognizable past*". ("Conon the C r i t i c on the

153

Six Landscape Painters of Greece". P, p. 108) Sidney's Strephon says,

"'But cause, e f f e c t , beginning, and the end/Are a l l i n me'", (p. 285)

Time as progress of cause-to-effect, beginning-to-end, i s r e l a ­

t i v e and subjective. Both Sidney and D u r r e l l convey t h i s i n t h e i r

system of d i f f e r e n t narrators t e l l i n g the same story and making i t

therefore i n t o several d i f f e r e n t s t o r i e s . The divergence i n viewpoint

can be i n t e r n a l , so Musidorus because of h i s s p l i t s e l f has to take

two d i f f e r e n t p o s i t i o n s as narrator. In one of these he can speak i n

the f i r s t person and be the subject of narration; i n the other he must

use the t h i r d person and be object. Something l i k e t h i s occurs i n

Balthazar when Darley has to r e t e l l Balthazar's version of the story

i n which he, Darley, i s an object of observation.

D u r r e l l has not written an updated Arcadia, but neither i s the

resemblance a s u p e r f i c i a l one. He d e l i b e r a t e l y "elizabethanizes",

employing devices important to the :renaissance writers to deal with

matters which troubled them and which trouble him: the problem of

one's i d e n t i t y i n r e l a t i o n to others, the bisexual nature of the

psyche, man's r e l a t i o n to time and place or space, the nature of art

and a r t i s t . His enthusiasm f o r the Marlowe-to-Ford period i s evident

i n h i s work, h i s l e t t e r s and h i s spoken comments. And Gerald D u r r e l l

reports that the a r t i s t as a young man sang "Elizabethan love-songs

i n a meek tenor v o i c e " . 1

My Family, pp. 83, 125.

154

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